


The Switch

by tomlingrin



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:08:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25840096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlingrin/pseuds/tomlingrin
Summary: Louis Tomlinson has been in a long-term relationship and over time has fallen into complacency. The relationship has become lack-lustre, and at its final tether.In a bid to possibly reinforce connections, he enters an experiment that tests every boundary and moral one may have. An experiment aimed at helping rebuild the foundations, connections and intimacy for a thriving relationship.It's in this experiment that Louis crosses paths with Harry Styles; the flamboyant man who doesn't quite know his place in life.In a journey of self-discovery, they find themselves but also find the meaning of love.
Relationships: Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Horan/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Intro: The Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my newest baby (and the one that I hold with great pride).   
> Just a warning that I didn't really proof-read, and in excitement just went ahead and published it.  
> So please excuse the poor editing. just go with it. lmao.   
> other than that, enjoy!!!

Couples who are in a committed, serious relationship and experiencing a form of turmoil that may cause its demise, attend a getaway. But it is not an ordinary 'couples' retreat, as they become separated and swapped with individuals from other couples.

Each individual is matched professionally with another based on their traits, values, and personalities. These 'new' couples begin to live together and partake in a series of activities to help gain an understanding of themselves, their morals, and their desires. This 'switch' lasts 3 months, and the original couple members maintain minimal contact.

The experiment is designed to challenge one another by pushing every boundary; whether it's moral, emotional or physical. It's a safe environment that helps one re-evaluate their decisions, desires and essential needs of a relationship.

The cessation of the experiment allows for each individual returning to their significant others to make a decision.

Stay or Leave.


	2. It's Not That Important

It had to be a joke.

Or at the very least a spam email containing approximately 37 viruses that would cause Louis' laptop to shit itself and turn off for eternity.

So Louis keeps telling himself exactly that as he stares at his small computer screen incredulously. He has read it approximately 12 times and still cannot fathom as to how this travesty has occurred. He doesn't even remember applying, and absolutely certain he in fact did not apply for it. It must be a joke. His face is lit up in the darkness of his room; cerulean eyes glistening, and angular jaw jutted as his eyes flicker over the ridiculous words, once again. He doesn't need to break eye contact as he reaches into his pocket to fetch his phone. He instinctively types in the password, because he's a professional at knowing exactly how to type it in without looking.

"Hey Siri, I need you to call Niall right this moment," His voice is almost exasperated, whilst running delicate fingers through the golden fringe that is brushing against his forehead.

Siri's robotic, automatic, and monotone voice instantly fills the silent room.

_Okay. Calling Niall Horan right now._

There are a few moments as his phone begins to call, and he counts the number of rings it takes before he gets an answer. He almost always gets an answer before 4 rings. It's comical really; the way Louis is curled up in the comfort of his spare bed wrapped up in a thick vermillion colored duvet. He should not even be in his spare room for fuck sake. But he is, and Eleanor - his uptight, narky, and currently intolerable girlfriend - is sleeping in the comfortable bed.

Why? Because right now this is the new normal. It has been the norm for a while, so maybe not so new. He exhales strongly as if to expel the frustration quickly building up internally as the phone continues to attempt contact with Niall. As if on cue just as the 4th ring sounds, he hears fumbling on the other side of the line and then Niall's voice.

"What's doing Louis? You alright mate?" It's half slurred, and yeah maybe Louis should have known better. Of course, he would be drinking at this time of night. Louis can't help but stifle a laugh and shake his head.

"Yeah, I'm alright...I think. I have just received a very perplexing email and needed to share it. You were my chosen person," Louis says hesitantly, as his eyes focus back on the subject of the email placed in front of him.

"Need me to decode this so-called perplexing email? I do have a mind of a genius after all," Niall's voice perks up with excitement.

"Alright, Einstein. Don't get ahead of yourself. You see, I can't decipher whether this is a real-life situation I'm experiencing or it's one of those stupid spam emails. But I feel like this is too real. Unless I've done something on one of my recent benders-," Louis starts to ramble but is eventually cut off because Niall wants him to get to the point already.

"Can you just let me be dramatic? For once?" Louis quips back fast, rolling his eyes at the way Niall groans.

"You are the most dramatic person I know, every aspect of your being is drama, Louis. It's 10 at night...I'm high as a kite and drinking whiskey. What is going on?"

Louis can imagine the boy sprawled across his stupid couch with a whiskey bottle in one hand. He's probably wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that probably has pizza stains on it. Because that's the Niall he knows best, a beautiful disaster.

"This email that I've been staring at...is telling me that I've been invited to an interview for some ridiculous concept...experiment if you will...and I don't know if I applied for it. I didn't, I know I didn't," He begins to chew on his fingernails anxiously, the words burning into the eyeballs.

It goes silent for a few seconds, and he can hear Niall moving around his flat again. He hears the smash of glass or the bottle of whiskey and he rolls his eyes.

"Oh, for god sake Niall!" He yells, and can't help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the man lets out an incredulous and frustrated scream. It is followed by the Niall admitting he'll fix it up later.

"Carry on. Explain further," Niall coaches Louis on, awkwardly trying to find out more information.

"Some stupid experiment called 'The Switch'. I've applied to go on some sort of holiday that's designed for Eleanor and I? But it's for our relationship or some kind of bullshit. I know we're not great right now- but shit Niall- I wouldn't do something like this. It has to be a mistake,"

There's another loud bang and Niall hesitates to reply. It's the type of silence that causes Louis to pull his phone away from his ear and check that the call hasn't ended.

"Niall?"

"It was supposed to be a joke, I didn't think-," Niall stammers.

Louis bolts upright and the feeling of shock starts to settle deep into his stomach. It creeps upwards slowly, squeezing his airways with a vice tight grip and makes it impossible for words to come out. His eyes widen as his jaw drops. He stutters for a moment, trying to string together an intelligible sentence.

"You did not," Louis manages to squeak out, unsure of the emotion that is overtaking his body. Niall laughs. It is loud and boisterous, obnoxious even. Louis' slack jaw quickly readjusts to rigid once again. Jaw muscles pulsing with each clench.

"Oh, man. Oh my god. They read it...they liked you...oh fuck,"

"What did they read Niall?" Louis' voice goes up an octave, and he is suddenly kicking off the stupid duvet. His skin is starting to burn up, from both rage and embarrassment.

"An advertisement came up a couple of weeks back for this...tragic idea...and I thought it'd be funny to enter you. I didn't think anything would come of it. This is the funniest thing I've ever heard," Niall continues to cackle much to Louis' distaste.

"You would find this funny! You really would. What in the hell did you even write for me to be considered?"

"Wouldn't you like to know Tommo, wouldn't you like to know,"

"Yes, that's exactly why I'm fucking asking you smart-arse,"

"I gave a short introduction as to who you were, what you do, described your relationship with Eleanor. Talked about this could save your Shakespearean tragedy love life,"

Louis scoffs, and there's now a hint of betrayal now filling his bloodstream alongside the rage. He slams his laptop shut because he can't look at that email for one more second; that stupid email mocking his very existence.

"We have been together for four years Niall, a shitty argument isn't going to end it. We are not some shit tragedy that some ancient man wrote," Louis seethes, climbing out of bed.

He starts to angrily pace back and forth, his mind whirring a million miles an hour. He's starting to go over scenarios in his head. He could just ignore it! No that's not polite. They're giving him a chance. It wasn't even his chance to take because he didn't even know about this damn thing. He could just go for a laugh? That could end terribly. Imagine if they somehow found them to be a salvageable relationship and chose him and he had to explain to the already pissed woman that they were going on some ridiculous experiment...No. No fucking way.

He could just politely decline. Yeah. That's what he'll do.

"You should just do it, what's the worst that could happen?"

"What is the worst that could happen? I end up on some private island or wherever the hell it is and my girlfriend and I break up?!" Louis' voice becomes so loud that it echoes for a moment. His eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as he continues to quickly pace back and forth. He doesn't think that Eleanor can probably hear him at this point. But he is also at the opposite end of the house and she's been asleep for 2 hours. So maybe not.

"Well is that the worst thing that could happen? I see a free holiday and you get to meet other potentially cute people,"

"Who, mind you, are also in relationships they are trying to salvage. You're sick. How about you get into a relationship and do it then. You're honestly...the worst," Louis can't even muster up a nasty insult at this point. He really can't.

"Get over yourself. You can either go, or you don't. Like it is going to affect me," Niall drunkenly mutters, and starts to yawn.

"Honestly if it wasn't so late and if I wasn't already in the dog-house, I'd be on my way over to you right now to punch you in your stupid face," Louis mutters, running a hand over his face in defeat.

"So you're going to go for the interview?"

"No," Louis shoots back.

"When is it scheduled for?" Niall's curiosity gets the better of him.

"In two days, Niall,"

"Interesting, let's go shopping tomorrow afternoon for an interview outfit,"

"Are you- fuck off," Louis' eyebrows knit together in a frown, and his body is tense with anger in the pitch black of his room.

Before he can even hear Niall start to ramble on, the spare bedroom door slowly creaks open. The light from the hallway suddenly filling the room and Louis freezes. He lowers the phone from his ear and turns. Eleanor stands in the door frame, her brunette hair up in a messy bun and eyes puffy. She looks exhausted and Louis' suddenly feels guilty because yes, yes he did just wake her up.

"What the hell are you yelling for? I have to work in the morning," Her voice is laced with annoyance.

"I- uh...Niall, I'm on the phone to Niall,"

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest. She looks Louis up and down, and Louis hates it. That exact look makes him feel small and he is anything but small.

"Well, can you be on the phone to Niall quieter. Instead of acting like a raving lunatic. You're no better than he is," She says harshly, which causes Louis' hand to instinctively tighten around his phone as he blinks a few times to bring himself down to reality.

He can't help but think Niall did probably hear that and, god, he's never going to hear the end of it. And it's right then that Niall's loud, drunken voice yells through the phone.

"I heard that you stupid-,"

"Shut it, Niall. Shut it right now," Louis mutters into the phone, and Niall knows that tone well enough to instantly shut up. Louis doesn't even hesitate to swiftly hang up the phone and gently throw it onto the bed.

"I'm about to go to bed. He's drunk anyway, I will talk to him tomorrow," Louis shrugs.

"He's always drunk, what's new?" Eleanor's lean frame leans against the wall, her eyes watching Louis' closely and they're filled with judgment.

"Just to back to bed. I don't want to argue again. Got some shit to sort out,"

He shuffles towards Eleanor and places a quick kiss to her forehead. It's an automatic thing that doesn't require a second of thought. And his lips leave her forehead as quick as they were placed there. She doesn't even look up from the floorboards to make eye contact with Louis. She just sighs, turns on her heel, and trudges back towards the forbidden kingdom.

Louis sighs. He's tired. Physically and emotionally tired. This is all his life has become...so maybe Niall's stupid idea was probably the best idea he's ever had. But he can't make any rational decision while in this state of mind so he decides to climb back into bed and think about this more seriously in the morning. Tiredness overcomes him swiftly, and his eyelids become heavier with each passing second and before long his room is filled with light snores.

He's awoken by the feeling of the mattress dipping right next to him. He blinks a few times, and his vision focuses on the sight of Eleanor. She's obviously about to leave for work, and she looks a little less agitated this morning. Her long, slender fingers running through Louis' wild honey-kissed hair, massaging his scalp gently. It's one of the most comforting things Eleanor does, and lately, it's the most physical affection he gets.

"Morning," She whispers, her hazel eyes squinting slightly in the corners as she smiles softly. Even with all the issues between the two, her eyes still twinkle with remnants of love.

"Good morning," Louis' voice is raspy and breaks slightly. He stretches himself awake and sits up to kiss Eleanor gently. It's barely a brush against her lips and it doesn't ignite those fireworks that he once had. Those fireworks have been dormant for far too long now, he misses it. He misses the way kissing used to make him feel; like it was the 4th of July in all his nerve endings.

"I just thought I'd say goodbye before heading to work. I didn't mean to be rude last night; you were just kind of loud. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything is okay. I have to spend today organizing some things with Niall," He shrugs, and Eleanor's hand rests on his shoulder. He knows that Eleanor doesn't like Niall, she swears he's a bad influence.

"Before you go though, I have a question," Louis clears his throat, anxiously running his fingers through his hair again.

She raises an eyebrow and nods, and Louis swallows the lump in his throat.

"Hypothetically speaking...if you were offered an experience designed to help rebuild our relationship and involved us going on a small holiday... what would you say?"

Okay, so the idea didn't really sound that bad. Although, he doesn't really understand the whole concept of this thing. All he understood was that he would be housed with other couples in similar predicaments, and they would all sort of help one another fix their issues. Eleanor's eyes widen with surprise and she momentarily frowns and tilts her head.

"You aren't talking about that ridiculous social experiment that everyone's talking about at the moment, right? I think it's the most bizarre, useless idea. Do you even know what they do in it?" She forces a laugh, looking at Louis' like he's lost his damn mind.

"No, I don't really know anything about it. I just thought it'd be a cool idea,"

"They want couples to go in, and we get split up and repaired with another split up couples. Like, I'd be housed with another guy. You...you would be housed with another woman. We have to live together for 12 weeks and do all these different types of activities. We won't be able to really talk to each other, bedsides an occasional meetup or something,"

Louis doesn't reply, but his eyes quickly dart to the ceiling. His mind is whirring and there are a hundred different thoughts about what the fuck is going on.

"So it isn't a holiday. It's just a test to see who is going to stay faithful?" He murmurs.

"In a way, yeah I suppose,"

"Interesting. Well. Never mind. You better get to work, I need to get myself together and drag Niall out of bed," He forces a smile and begins to move out of bed. Eleanor quickly stands up and straightens out her polka dot blouse.

"See you around 6," She says quietly, and then walks out of the room. There isn't a hug, there isn't a further kiss. Just those words and she disappears out the door.

Louis' once again left alone to his thoughts. When did this all go wrong? When did their relationship start to fall into this bland, and boring _thing_? They had met when Louis was in the midst of his degree in psychology. Eleanor was studying Business Management and they had crossed paths at the university bar one afternoon. It started off magical, there was an instant connection between the two. There were laughs shared, memories created and the sex – yeah that happened a bit too – was also great. Until it wasn't. Those laughs had slowly dwindled into silence, those memories were replaced with arguments, stress, and childish mistakes. Louis can't even remember the last time he bothered to become intimate, and that in itself was a problem.

Eleanor was gorgeous, she could be a model if she really wanted to. She had long legs that a man would usually froth over, a toned body that always made it hard for men to divert their attention elsewhere, and her face was soft, heart-shaped, and framed with wavy brown hair with caramel highlights. Any smart man wouldn't pass down the opportunity to get with her, and it was almost like once the chase was over and it became a part of his normal life, it wasn't nearly as fun. She still is beautiful, and Louis can wholeheartedly admit that. If he were able to put aside his own emotional detachment, he probably could continue messing around with her. But he wasn't like that. He was raised better than that; his mother had taught him to always respect women. And it made it easier considering he had 5 sisters he grew up with.

There was this tiny portion of Louis that was genuinely considering attending the interview, it wasn't likely it was going to go any further. But he couldn't help imagine if they did both go, and maybe things would go back to the way they were. He continues mentally weighing up the pro's and con's as he showers, as he has his first tea of the day and a bagel and does it up until he's knocking on Niall's front door.

It takes a few minutes of frustrated knocking, which increasingly gets louder every 30 seconds. And just as Louis inhales deeply to start yelling at the top of his lungs, the door flings open. And there's Niall standing there in all his glory. His milky skin is blinding as the sun hits him, and his hand instinctively blocks his eyes. His half blonde, half brunette hair sticks up in many different directions and his clothes are crumpled.

"Did I wake you?" Louis says cheerily, forcing himself past Niall. Who stays at the door for an extra few moments as his brain slowly wakes up for the day.

"What a lovely way to wake me up, knocking on my door at some ridiculous hour," He mutters, slamming the door shut.

"What do you mean ridiculous hour? It's 9 am. It's normal people working hours," Louis throws him a questioning look, as he walks through the tiny flat. He pretends not to mentally count the cans of beer that are placed haphazardly around, as lays down quickly on the navy blue couch in the middle of the lounge room.

"Normal people hours don't exist to me. I don't function until after midday. I could have slept for another 3 hours at least," Niall's voice is quiet, and Louis notices the way his sapphire eyes scan the disastrous state of the room. He begins to massage his temples and closes his eyes tightly as if to will himself to not be hungover.

"You can't pray away the hangover,"

"And you can't pray away the gay either, Louis," The sentence was supposed to be a joke, but it causes Louis to seize up entirely. His head suddenly peeps over the top of the couch, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed straight at the hungover man leaning against his kitchen bench.

"Why even say that? I got drunk one time," He spits

"And that's exactly why you're in this mess with Eleanor,"

Louis isn't sure whether to be offended or furious, so he opts for both. He sits up quickly and grips the couch tightly. He's about to start mouthing off until Niall starts loudly opening cupboards in a desperate search for Panadol.

"Don't start yelling at me either, you know it's true," He looks over his shoulder and locks eyes with Louis, who most certainly has steam escaping out his ears and nose.

"It was a drunken, childish mistake. You dared me, and I don't back down from a challenge either Niall. You should know better. It lasted like what, 5 seconds?"

"30. You were enjoying it," Niall speaks matter-of-factly, as he throws the pain relief into his mouth, quickly swallowing it down with a glass of water. He places the cup in the sink and clears his throat.

"Whatever! It happened and now I'm suffering the consequences. I fucked up by kissing that person but I was completely inebriated. You and your stupid tequila shots..." Louis mutters, and maybe Eleanor is right. Niall is probably the worst influence of all night.

"That person just happened to be a guy, but let's just ignore that important fact,"

"It's not _that_ important," Louis angrily shoots back. It was a terrible idea coming here, and he instantly stands up to make a quick exit.

"You get so worked up over it. I'm just stirring the pot you idiot," Niall crosses the room and pulls Louis into a giant bearhug. It happens so fast that Louis can't even get himself to move out of the way and dodge it, and soon enough his face is squeezed into Niall's shoulder, and he is overwhelmed with the smell of alcohol, sweat, and deodorant. He pushes Niall off him gently and scrunches his nose.

"Don't stir it anymore. My relationship is basically dead now because of it. What you can do, however, is have a shower first," Louis squeezes Niall's shoulder, before shoving him in the direction of the bathroom.

"I'll shower if you consider the interview," Niall starts towards the bedroom, shoulders broad and chest puffed. He's incredibly proud of himself; and Louis may knock him out.

"Consider it already considered," Louis shouts after him, and he chuckles to himself as Niall 'whoops' loudly behind his closed door.

It's just an interview, nothing will happen anyway.


	3. We're Not Who We Used To Be

Louis never backed down from a challenge.

That was the one thing that Niall knew for certain about him, and this social experiment was the ultimate challenge. And it didn't take much convincing for Louis to crumble and start to entertain the idea of actually attending the interview. He had sent the application with no ill intent, and out of love for Louis' mental health. Niall was just completely fed up having to listen to Louis bicker about unimportant things of a relationship. Like who honestly cares about them arguing over bin night? No one.

It took Niall a fair while to get himself ready for the day, and Louis blames him and his alcohol consumption completely. He doesn't even know how he's even productive at work when he's hungover ninety-eight perfect of the time. Niall was a self-employed graphic designer and often spent his afternoons in his apartment drawing away. He had a whole tiny room created for the sole purpose of design. It didn't matter what type of art he did, he was scarily good at it. And it's even worse that he can still create quality while drinking away at the same time. So there's a solid hour of Louis napping on and off on the couch as Niall runs around like a headless chook trying to figure out where he's left certain objects around the place.

At one point he can't even remember where the house keys are. Louis notices they're dangling on the pot plant a few feet from the couch and he's curious how they ended there. Niall did bizarre things but Louis loved him for it.

"I'm sure they're in here somewhere," Niall is shouting from his bedroom and Louis can hear things being thrown around, and he can also hear Niall huffing and puffing angrily as time passes. Louis can't help but feel like a bit of a rat knowing they're in his line of sight, but today it's completely warranted that he's like this.

"I'm sure they are, Niall," He replies sarcastically, eyes fixating on the white ceiling. He felt as if he had not had enough sleep to handle more bullshit thrown his way today, and the only way he'd accept it is if there was a coffee in his hand.

There are a few more minutes before Niall walks out of his room and is quite literally out of breath. His hair still dripping from the shower and his milky skin tinged a soft shade of pink. Louis knew him well enough to know that he liked to physically cook himself in showers. It made no sense. Showers were supposed to be relaxing. There is nothing fun about standing in the literal depths of hell, but whatever floats his boat. Louis watches amusedly as Niall intensely searches his kitchen bench again, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. He's like a giant toddler.

"I don't know, have you seen them? Please tell me you've seen them," Niall whines, stomping his feet just like an agitated child. God bless him.

"What I want to know is why the fuck they're dangling from your houseplant," Louis points directly towards the withering plant, and looks back at Niall with a playful smirk. Niall's face falls into a blank canvas as his eyes lock on the silver set of keys. Louis can tell he's about to get an earful and bites down on his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"You knew this whole time?"

"Absolutely I did. After this stunt that you've pulled you deserve it," Louis stretches his arms above his hair and yawns dramatically before resting his hands behind his head. He watches as Niall scowls at him and then storms over towards the plant whilst muttering profanities to himself and his best friend. What a wonderful start to the morning.

"You have some nerve letting me destroy my house looking for these things full well knowing they were right there," Niall scoffs, spinning the object around his finger as he walks away towards his bedroom.

"What's the plan today Niall? I have to be back home in a few hours. Clients and all that," Louis raises his voice so Niall can still hear him in the bedroom but gives up and forces himself off the couch to walk into the room.

"You've always got clients, do you ever get a day off?" Niall is laying on the bed limbs splayed out like he's doing a snow angel. Louis tilts his head and frowns at the boy and mentally asks himself why he is friends with such a child.

"Ask yourself this...Do those with mental illnesses ever get a day off? Get back to me when they do," Louis shrugs. He does work a lot, probably way too much. It's the type of work that's emotionally and physically draining but he knows it's the type of work that's improving the quality of life for others.

"You're too kind to others, but a total wanker to yourself you know,"

"Tell me something I don't know. Is today going to be spent lounging around? I need a coffee fix immediately Niall. I'm fading away as we speak," Louis points to himself, dramatically showing Niall that he's been without caffeine for too long.

"Giant baby, that's what you are," Niall groans as he forces himself up. "Let me dry my hair, and then we'll get your damn coffee. Might go for a shop too. I need to have you looking fresh for this interview,".

There's a bit of back and forth but in the end, Louis finds himself legitimately forced out the door by Niall. There is no longer the argument of 'I'm not going to go', it's now become 'I'll go for a laugh,'. Louis feels like his fashion sense is completely fine and there's no need to purchase any items of clothing for an interview that means shit-all. But Niall has a whole other idea much to Louis' distaste. So, before the shopping haul occurs Niall does as he promised and lets Louis buy himself caffeine-filled beverages to get through the experience.

And now Louis' found himself standing in a clothing store eyeballing an array of fashions that he would typically never wear. He leans against the frame of the mahogany changerooms and takes a sip of his caramel macchiato as Niall begins to form a mountain-high pile of clothing. He mentally takes note of the varying overwhelming colours that are offensive to the eye; chartreuse, salmon pink, canary yellow, seafoam and magenta just to name a few.

"Are you wanting me to walk in looking like I've just come straight from a shift at Cirque du Soleil?" Louis scoffs, leaning down and touching the fabric of one shirt. Silk? What the hell is this man doing? He looks back at Niall who's beaming ear-to-ear and has his hands placed firmly on his hips. He's so utterly proud of himself.

Wanker.

"Cirque du Soleil?"

"Yes, because I'm going to look like a clown. Is that what you're after?" He picks up the silk shirt and scrunches his nose. The colours, the texture...all repulsive. It's like this man has no taste at all. Niall doesn't even blink as he reaches for a pair of skinny ripped jeans that he'd thrown next to the pile. He looks between the jeans and the vomit coloured silk-shit-show shirt that's dangling in front of Louis' face that's twisted into a disgusted scowl.

"The purpose is to stand out. Just try that shirt with the jeans,"

Louis obliges but shoots his best friend a glare as he walks back into the change room. Niall crosses his arms over his chest and can feel the laughter already bubbling imagining what Louis' going to look like. He can hear Louis shuffling around and zipping the jeans up. There are a few awkward coughs from inside the room and then he hears Louis clear his throat.

"Stand out? Where are these people watching from? The space shuttle? I will blind anyone within the earth's radius," The door swings open partially, and Louis' head pops around the door. There is a scowl on his face and he looks thoroughly unimpressed.

"Just walk out and show me, it surely can't be that bad Louis,"

"I don't know what I ever did to have you as a best friend. I must have been Hitler in my past life," Louis strains as he opens the door completely and steps out. He notices a few people within the store's gaze drop on him. He pretends not to notice the way they gawk. There's an immense burning rising up his chest and onto his cheeks and he just knows that he's blushing. His worst trait. His eyes flicker towards Niall who's biting so hard onto his bottom lip to refrain from laughing.

"Don't hold back. Hit me," Louis raises his arms above his head, motioning for Niall to freely make fun of him. It doesn't take a second longer before Niall begins cackling. Louis crosses his arms as Niall hunches over to stop himself from laughing. There was nothing even remotely funny about the repugnant fashion he's wearing right this moment.

"Hilarious, isn't it? They won't miss me. I'll be the talk of the whole set," Louis forces a sarcastic smile and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"I'll buy this outfit for you and give you 50 quid if you go dressed in that. Please. I'll worship you for the whole week," Niall has to look away, uncontrollably laughing. Louis observes the way the man's face begins to turns rosy-pink and is aware that there's no end in sight of the torment.

"How much are these? This is something that those weirdo Gucci wearing celebrities wear," Louis tries to reach for the price tag that's dangling behind his neck. The sheer disgusting pattern and colour scheme screams rich superiority.

"It doesn't even matter, it could be Gucci for all I know,"

"This isn't a Gucci store, Niall," Louis shoots back, and the look on Niall's face appears like he's genuinely considering a Gucci store trip. But before he can even continue thinking any further Louis raises his hand to halt him immediately. "Don't even think about it. No Gucci. We are too good for Gucci. I'm more of a Versace man myself," Louis turns his nose up and straightens his posture. He looks at Niall down the bridge of his nose.

"You're a tool. We still have all these other beautiful clothing to get through," Niall points towards the mountain-high pile of obscure and vile coloured clothing items.

"Anything, and I mean anything, is better than this," Louis begins to walk towards the changeroom and catches himself in the larger mirror. He immediately stops in his tracks and stares at himself. He can't help but feel the humiliation turn into laughter as he turns slightly to stare at himself.

It looks as if a kid has eaten every sweet known to man inside candy land, drank it down with a rainbow fluorescent slushy and decided to regurgitate it at Disneyland. It's the physical embodiment of being at Disneyland on an acid trip.

"100 quid," Niall appears behind him, beaming like the sun is shining out of his ass.

"It'd make a statement, right?" Louis looks back to Niall and raises an eyebrow. There wasn't anything to be serious about anyway. Niall nods vehemently, eyes widening with joy. "Right, 100 quid and you're paying for it," Louis shrugs and disappears back into the changeroom.

+++

There had been a significant shift in the household since Louis had brought up the conversation of the switching experiment. For starters, he was no longer housed in the spare bedroom. Although he had grown fond of sleeping alone which he normally usually despised. Louis was not one for public displays of affection or any affection really. There was not really an explanation as to why he felt that way, and he had noticed that it always dramatically affected his previous relationships. He knew that girls deeply crave affection and that their minds are always secretly waiting for the next intimate moment. He knew that intimacy didn't exactly mean sex and that intimacy can be expressed in a multitude of ways, but he just wasn't physically capable of being that way.

Louis had tried his best to keep his mind distracted from the idea of attending an interview, and most definitely avoided bringing it up with Eleanor. There would be no denying that shit would well and truly hit the fan if she knew about it. The initial shift back into the bedroom with Eleanor left Louis feeling more uncomfortable than relieved. He was relieved in the sense that this was a positive step towards earning forgiveness, but it also meant he was hyper-aware of her yearning presence next to him. That second night when Louis doesn't roll over to spoon Eleanor, he hears the way she sadly exhales. It's one of those noises that instantly make you feel guilty like you've completely let someone down. What does surprise him however is that he feels Eleanor's dainty hand suddenly brushing over his and forcing their fingers to lace together.

"We don't have to hug, but I missed you," Her voice is soft, and laced with sadness. That same damn sadness that causes guilt to flicker in Louis' heart. "Is this okay?".

"Yeah Eleanor, this is fine," He says flatly and secretly wishes he wasn't so reserved. This was not him and he does not understand how it's come to this. As Eleanor gently squeezes his hand, Louis flutters his eyes closed and squeezes back softly.

"I thought about what you said about that experiment or whatever you want to call it. Do you think it would help? Like could we get it back to the way things used to be?" She whispers. And Louis isn't sure he's hearing correctly especially considering her reaction earlier that day, so this does cause him to quickly turn his bedside lamp on and turn towards her.

She looks pretty run down, and Louis realises he hasn't even asked her about how work is going. He doesn't know anything that's going on in this woman's life and he's been dating her for how long? 4, 5 years? He's truly lost count. Her hazel eyes look drained of life and he can't help but realise how dark her eyebags have become. It's appearing as if she hasn't had a decent night sleep in a while. Is it because he wasn't there? Another thing that's his fault.

"That's a bit of stark contrast in comparison to this mornings conversation," Louis says matter-of-factly, eyes trained on Eleanor's expression. He doesn't realise how tense he is until Eleanor rubs her thumb over his knuckles. So he forces himself to dissipate a little bit of stress.

"I just think we're not who we used to be. We're way off where we should be. I don't like the idea of you being paired with another woman, but it might help you realise a few things. I want my Louis back,"

_My Louis._

Louis does shift uncomfortably at this point because terms of endearment aren't his thing either. Come to think of it, everything about a relationship isn't his thing. He begins to chew on the inside of his cheek and looks down at the way Eleanor continues to brush her fingers along Louis' knuckles.

"There's a lot to work on, yeah?" He already knows it but it's sounding like he's trying to convince himself it's real. Eleanor doesn't need to speak and she doesn't either. She just nods sadly. What has Louis done to her?

"Both of us have a bit to work on. I need to learn how to communicate better. I think you're just a little lost, love. I remember when you were filled with energy and laughter. You were unstoppable, always the life of the party. Then once you graduated and started working you lost your light,"

Louis is taken aback by this statement and tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing at Eleanor. What the hell does that even mean? He's still the same person he was... just now matured. Once you're out of the education system and faced with the realities of adulthood there isn't really much time for those childish traits.

"I'm still me El, that's a bit harsh. We're both working ridiculously hard. I have clients coming out of the whazoo. You're managing a law firm, you have to be real with yourself. This isn't high school, this isn't university. We're adults now, and things change as we grow,"

"No...I didn't mean it like that. I just meant...like your job seems to drain you a lot. I feel like you deserve a break. It will do you good. You're around all this angst, sadness and tragedy constantly and I feel like you're taking it on board too much. You were sunshine Louis, and now you're grey,"

Louis decides to pull away at this point and sits up in the bed. He knows not to raise his voice at Eleanor but the way his defensive anger is beginning to flood his system he knows it's best to just walk away. He notices the way Eleanor also sits up, her hair falling slightly into her face. She brushes it out of the way and watches him with those emotionally vacant eyes.

"I love my job," He says flatly and starts to move out of the bed. His eyes dart around the room, and he mentally ticks off the items within reach that he can take back to his other room. He needs distance and a lot of it.

"I know you do, I feel like sometimes you love it too much. You're neglecting every other aspect of your life. You work, you drink and you sleep. There's nothing positive going on for you,"

"If that's how I like to work Eleanor, that's up to me. Okay? So if you're going to hold it against me then leave the relationship," He shoots back, and he's completely ready to start fighting again. He feels that similar surge of adrenaline and that anger that causes his hands to twitch a little.

"All I'm saying is that if you apply for The Switch, I wouldn't say no at this point. I'd do anything to fix this. I don't want to lose you," Her voice wavers slightly, and her eyes begin to sting as tears quickly rise. Louis instantly almost caves and considers just climbing back into the bed and pulling her into a hug and kissing her on the forehead. But he just clenches his jaw tightly and looks at the ground. Louis had this horrible habit of being too defensive for things that didn't really matter. The job itself mattered greatly but arguing over it wasn't really worth the time or the drama.

"You know what Eleanor? I might. I very well might just apply for it. Since I need that break so badly," Louis jeers while shaking his head and immediately turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Eleanor is left alone in the silence yet again. That same deafening silence that causes the overwhelming surge of loneliness, and the feeling of her heart breaking on repeat. The bed will be cold again tonight as it has been for a while. She listens carefully for the sound of Louis' feet pattering down the hallway and she closes her eyes bracing for the sound of a slamming door. It takes a minute and she instantly flinches as it loudly echoes through the empty house.

She knows in her heart that things will never be the same and that the love that she craves is not the one that Louis can provide anymore. Eleanor can't help but cling onto this fantasy of Louis suddenly reverting back to his university days where he was filled with spontaneity, enthusiasm, childish energy and just all-around more relaxed. She had lost count of the days since she'd seen a real smile, and she forgot what it felt like to feel physically loved. She was aware that there was love from Louis, but her needs weren't met. She needed a physical connection again. She wanted those mindless conversations of all hours of the night, and those laughs that cause her face to ache and her stomach to cramp up.

The pain inside her chest wells up and licks at all the wounds throughout. The stinging never gets any better and neither does the loneliness. There reaches a time where love can become so faded it can be detrimental, and this was the time. Two faded hearts that are travelling in two different directions. She doesn't even realise that she's crying until she touches her face and sure enough her fingers feel the warm tears streaming down her cheeks.

It doesn't make sense to her....it doesn't make any sense that Louis is a qualified mental health professional but can't get a grip on himself. He knows the signs and traits of one that is depressed, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know he is. It's denial. Louis is always in denial and Eleanor has hated that about him.

It's almost like Louis is petrified of reality half the time, and that university was a mirage that kept him from focusing on real-life. The second they graduated and started working and fell into a routine he faded into a ghost of himself. She missed the way his eyes crinkled when he did a genuine smile, and she missed the way his voice cracked when he laughed. There was a lack of warmth as if the sun was hidden behind the clouds and didn't want to come out again. The world is cold...he's cold. Everything about the universe right now is dark, freezing, and bitter.


	4. It Is What It Is

When the day of the face-to-face interview arrives, Louis does consider at the last minute to just say sike and go back to sleep. But Niall was having absolutely none of it. So, when Louis was unexpectedly pulled feet first out of the bed during his avoidance nap, he was beyond shocked. But it was immediately replaced with indescribable rage when he looks up half asleep and finds Niall grinning like he has won gold at the Olympics.

"Rise and shine, motherfucker," He gleams, hands resting on his hips. His hair is neatly brushed and slicked back with what appears to be gel. Louis glares for a few moments as his brain is startled awake and the haze of sleepiness is quickly dissipating.

"You couldn't just walk in with a cup of tea, could you? What was the purpose of dragging me out of my bed and breaking my tailbone in the process?" Louis grunts as he reaches up to the bed and pulls himself up weakly. He blinks a few times and waits until the dizziness from standing up to quickly settles. "I was sleeping. Avoiding today...today is cancelled. Didn't you get the memo?"

"I didn't spend hundreds on that disgusting outfit choice for you to be a wimp, Tommo," Niall pats Louis' shoulder gently, dramatically winking at him at the same time. Louis scowls and begins to fix the blankets on his bed. "Where's the outfit? We are prepared to go?" Niall hums to himself.

"We?" Louis looks back over his shoulder, tired face suddenly firm and eyebrows furrowed.

"Obviously, you're the one that's going in and doing all the talking. I am coming for the drive. I'm your hype man," Niall throws himself onto the bed and lands with a soft thud. Louis immediately gives up on tidying his bed and starts to walk towards the door. However, stops and turns back towards his best friend with wide eyes.

"How the fuck did you get into my house?" There is a legitimate tone of terror settling into Louis' voice, and his mind starts to go over the possibilities of how the hell Niall actually got into the place.

"Eleanor let me in, surprisingly. She wasn't expecting me, and she didn't say much but said you were still asleep," Niall shrugs casually, and Louis rolls his eyes.

"Right. I'll have to tell her that you're now banned from here," Louis says flatly and then quickly exits the room. As he briskly walks down the hallway, he can't help but fight the smile on his face as he hears the steps of Niall behind him.

"Eleanor?" He raises his voice, eyes darting around the kitchen for a second. For once she wasn't hunched over the kitchen bench drinking her morning coffee.

"What's wrong? Why do you sound so upset?" She appears from the bedroom, her eyes darting to Louis quickly as she puts her hair into a tight ponytail. Louis feels the lump in his throat grow for a second as he takes in the sight of her. She's wearing a tight black pencil skirt, and polka dot blouse that hugs her figure well. It was enough for Louis to clear his throat and look back towards Niall.

"I just wanted to let you know that this buffoon.... decided to physically haul me out of the bed this morning. So, I've made the executive decision that he's banned from entry,"

Eleanor hesitates for a moment, hands freezing in the middle of putting the hairband in. She looks between Louis and Niall and is unsure whether it's a joke. Louis sounds serious, but the way that Niall is starting to laugh says otherwise. "I'm not banned, you can't ban your best friend,"

"Best friends don't ruin precious sleep hours, especially in that manner," Louis snaps back, running his fingers through his bed hair.

"I don't know about other people, but I choose to give my best friend time to get himself together before he attends an interview,"

Louis instantly closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and slowly exhales. Niall can't help but instantly notice the shift in Louis' demeanor and his sight quickly moves to Eleanor. She's finished with her hair and takes a sip from her coffee mug.

"You decided to go for it, huh? It wasn't a joke when you said you would apply then," She says softly, her tired eyes resting on Louis who deflates instantly.

"I..erm...yeah. I applied and got into the next stage of interviews. I wasn't going to go this morning, but this leprechaun happened to have other plans," Louis points towards Niall in a fast enough way that causes Niall's eyes to widen. Maybe he should not have spoken at all. "I don't have to go. I know you said I should...but I thought it was out of anger. I don't particularly like doing things out of anger, you of all people should know," Louis awkwardly itches the back of his neck. God he's going to kill this Irish fucker the second they're alone.

Eleanor does not even look towards Niall now; her eyes stay trained on Louis. Her face stays unreadable as she considers the situation and thinks of her response. She does notice in her peripheral vision Niall slowly slinks back down the hallway, very obviously dodging the awkward encounter.

"I said it might be a good idea. Things could change. I still stand by that," She says nonchalantly and places the mug down on the bench.

Louis watches as Eleanor swiftly moves so she's standing in front of him and their eyes meet. She softly runs her fingers through Louis' hair and he instinctively melts into her hand. He doesn't want to but it's comforting. Her eyes look dull and he notices that even with her concealer on, he could still notice the bags. She looks exhausted. Her hand slowly moves to cup his cheek and the pads of her fingers rest lightly against him.

"We can fix this. I miss you, I always miss you," Her voice is lower than a whisper and Louis knows it's because she doesn't want to give it away to Niall that things are really this bad.

"I just woke up, I haven't even brushed my teeth Eleanor," Louis quickly diverts the conversation and takes a step back, immediately flabbergasted. Eleanor giggles a little bit and it's soft and is the physical embodiment of honey. It's the type of laugh that makes the tenseness of Louis' body instantly relax. A sound he hasn't heard since that horrible mistake.

"I've been with you for almost 4 years Louis, I don't mind. Just come back here," She reaches for his hand and laces her fingers between them. Louis allows it, his eyes trained on her delicate fingers and he swallows thickly. His body is beginning to feel overheated and his eyes dart towards the hallway, but it appears Niall has gone back to the bedroom. At least the kid knows when to leave awkward situations, that is his best trait. Eleanor gently pulls Louis back towards her and he obliges by taking a couple of steps forward again. She leans forward and places a soft kiss against his mouth. Her lips are soft, and he can feel her lip gloss already transferring onto him. He can also smell her perfume and taste the coffee she had just been drinking.

It doesn't go any further than that as she pulls away just as quickly as she kissed him. Her fingers squeeze his hand again, which brings him back to earth instead of stuck in his head.

"I can't hold it against you forever, and I'm sorry. I love you, and I'll do whatever it takes to get things back to normal. Go to that interview, it's fine with me," She smiles softly again, and drops her hand before turning back to her coffee. Louis takes a few breaths to calm the fact his heart is hammering against his ribcage and he lets out a shaky laugh.

"I doubt it'll go any further than the interview. Niall's put together the most ridiculous outfit in the world. I'm going to look like a pretentious Gucci prince,"

"Well, they might lap you all up. Might keep whatever kind of game they're planning interesting. Do your best. I have to go, I'll be late otherwise. I'll see you later this evening. Do you have any appointments?" She asks as she begins to walk towards the door. Louis blinks a few times, mind still whirring from the first kiss in quite some time.

"No, I cleared my schedule for today. I'll be making up for it tomorrow though,"

Eleanor doesn't respond, she just nods her head. She looks at Louis like he's a lost puppy and he hates that sad smile that she gives him. He feels like a damn baby. But she does it anyway and as soon as she exits and the door closes Louis turns back towards the hallway. What the fuck just happened?

"Niall James Horan! I could murder you," He yells loudly, and then dramatically runs his hands over his face. He's suddenly very aware that he has to get himself together and mentally prepare for an interview that he hadn't cared much about until right now.

"I wasn't listening I swear, but I got your outfit ready while you were dealing with...whatever you were doing," Niall's head pops out from the room at the end of the hallway, his voice reverberating around the white walls of the house.

"I'm going to shower. Once I'm out and getting myself together, I need you to pretend you're interviewing me. I have no idea what the hell I'm supposed to say or do," Louis mutters to himself as he enters the room with Niall. He grabs the clothing that had been set out for him and looks at Niall for a brief second before storming towards the bathroom.

+++

In the entire history of his being, Louis not once has felt this out of place. While he finds himself sitting across from these trained professionals in their business attire, and he's looking like he's dressed in what could be presumed as Homer Simpson's vomit post-donut frenzy.

He can feel the eyes boring into him and his skin is tingling with anxiety. As he fidgets and repositions himself awkwardly in the chair, he breaks eye contact with one of the men sitting across from him. They seem thoroughly unimpressed and even though his attire was supposed to get a laugh out of them, there seemed to be not a sense of humor insight. It's a few moments later before the man he was once holding eye-contact with breaks his silence.

"Okay, welcome to the interviews. Why don't we start with you introducing yourself? We want to know all about you, and the aspects of your life," His voice is a lot deeper than what Louis would have expected, and the way the man straightens his jacket out and leans back to the chair, Louis realises this is probably way too serious for him.

"It's wonderful meeting you all, you all look very charming. Thanks for considering me for an interview. I'm Louis Tomlinson, I'm 25 and I'm a trained psychologist with my own private practice," Louis begins but stops himself after that initial introduction. He feels as if they wanted to know something then they would just go right ahead and ask him. They probably already know a shit-tonne about him...and Louis considers finding out exactly what the hell Niall wrote in that application.

"Wonderful Louis, thanks for coming. Tell me more about your career. Don't be afraid to talk about your family, upbringing...the more open you are the better. We love to see the ins and outs of someone so we can potentially find a great match,"

Louis chews on his bottom lip for a moment and can feel the embarrassment creeping through his bloodstream at a faster rate. He hates talking about himself and he knows there's nothing even remotely interesting about him, to begin with.

"I graduated from the University of Doncaster with a degree in Behavioural Science and Psychology. I used that qualification to open my own practice. I mostly work with adolescents as I find I connect with them a lot more. I find it very rewarding helping the young ones through their own emotional trauma or battles," Louis begins to pick at the rips in the ugly black jeans Niall convinced him to wear, and his eyes are focused on the frayed threads of fabric. "There isn't anything crazy about my family life. I have 4 sisters and my mum is the strongest woman I know. A single mother raising 5 kids and did brilliantly might I add,"

"I see, so as a psychologist you'd have to have some pretty thick skin. You must be very resilient," The man leans forward, clearly suddenly very intrigued in the conversation and Louis' presence. Louis clenches his jaw and mentally fights off the urge to tell them to stop looking at him like he's some sort of meal.

"I guess you could say that. I'm pretty good at being emotionally closed off to things like that. I just like to do the listening and give guidance. It's what I'm good at," Louis tilts his head either side to stretch out the stiffness in his neck and hums as he's in deep thought. The people across from him look at one another, waiting for one to ask the next question. "I love my job, what can I say..."

"Alright Louis, let's get a bit deeper now. We're starting off with the basics but I do want to forewarn you that we do go quite in depth the further we go on. Is that okay?" The second man speaks up, his brown eyes twinkling with amusement. He's wearing a light grey suit and he tightens the blue tie that's around his neck.

"Sure, I'll ask whatever I feel comfortable with. Hit me with your questions and I'll answer whatever you need to know. Within my limits of course," Louis forces a laugh, and he leans back into the chair. This is the most ridiculous decision he's made in his life, but these men are lapping him up. Niall was right...the outfit caught their attention immediately.

"Your relationship. Obviously that's why you're here today. Tell me all about it. What's the issues in it and why do you think they're happening?"

Louis grinds his teeth instantly and can feel a slight annoyance already starting to build in his chest. They're only into the first few minutes of conversation and Louis just knows this is going to be the longest interview of his life.

"I met Eleanor while I was still at university. You know what I was studying so that doesn't matter but she was a business management major. We crossed paths at the university bar one day, and we sort of clicked. We had a few shots and I got her a few drinks and she ended up back at my place and then we didn't really look back. She fit in well, and it was never supposed to be anything serious at the time. But it happened and that is fine. We got along well and our relationship started off like bizarrely strong. Almost 4 years together but I would say in the last year it's been a bit rough. It was a slow decrease but considering we started off on such a high, we're like two ghosts now in comparison," Louis laces his fingers together in his lap and squeezes them to distract himself from the anxiety that's starting to rise. He hates talking about this and he's starting to feel like he's talking to a psychologist himself. He doesn't work like that. "The issue? Mostly started when I started to throw myself into work. I was always going to put 100% of myself into work because that's just who I am. So naturally, we drifted and I don't know...I guess there was a part of me that still wanted to venture with other people. I kind of hold it against her for making me settle down so quick,"

Louis watches carefully as each of the men jot down in their leather notebooks. He wants to lean forward and try and catch a glimpse of what they're saying about him but he leaves it.

"You hold it against her for making you settle down so quick? No one forces you to stay," The first man interjects, looking at Louis and then down at the notebook again.

"I understand that, but I feel like it's my obligation to stay. Especially at this point. 4 years and we're in our mid 20's and this is the prime age where everyone starts getting married, having kids. All those adult things," Louis waves his hand around his head, rolling his eyes at the thought.

"You don't want to get married? You don't want kids?" Each of their eyes widens with curiosity and Louis shifts uncomfortably in his chair. This is torture. He stutters for a moment and decides to give himself a few seconds to gather his thoughts instead of stammering like a fool and embarrassing himself any further.

"I didn't say I don't want those things but right now at this stage, I don't. I feel like Eleanor and I are at two different stages in life. She's working hard but I feel like she desires those things and that's completely justifiable. All her friends are engaged or married, and they're starting families now. She feels like she's left out. But I don't think I'll propose or think of children for a fair few years. My job is my baby at the moment," Louis shrugs, and then begins to chew on his nails anxiously. Once again, these men start jotting down more notes, and Louis is tired of it. Already.

"Okay, I see. You must be good at communicating these thoughts? You must practice what you preach to all these people you dedicate your life to?" The brown-eyed man scratches his beard thoughtfully, eyes looking distant. Louis looks down at the floor and considers his reply. The carpet is navy blue with small specks of white everywhere. It isn't a good look in his opinion.

"Surprisingly not. It's ridiculous but I feel like she has such a high view of the person I was in university that by talking about these things it might break her heart even more. I'm not really good at verbalizing my feelings and thoughts and that's really ironic I know. But it is what it is," Louis says carefully, and nods at the end. In a way, this feels like a positive therapy session. He didn't think it would turn out like this. Strange.

"So, communicating is your weak point. What about your strength? What do you think is your strong characteristic?"

Louis frowns and runs his hand through his hair again. He needs to stop touching it, it's all he does. But it's the only thing that 's helping. He doesn't really know what exactly his personal strengths are.

"I guess I would say that my ability to always make someone laugh is a good trait. I'm humorous... is what a few of my friends would say. I feel like life is way too serious sometimes, and that not only myself but others need a laugh. It's important. So, I guess my strengths are being able to listen to people with open ears and without judgment, my wit, and my humor,"

"Alright. So what about physical intimacy? How is that going for you and...Eleanor?"

Fuck.

Louis doesn't know how to respond to this one and he coughs awkwardly. The burning of embarrassment creeps up his neck and he feels his face heat up. He twists his face into the look of sheer discomfort and tries to string together a comprehensible sentence.

"I-Uhm. Yeah, about that. We don't really....we haven't done that in a while. We sleep on opposite sides of the house. Hahaha. We kissed this morning though...she kissed me...That was the first time in a while. That's the most it's been in a while," Louis feels like he's a teenager that's too afraid to talk about sex when it's something that he talks about comfortably with his clients. So why is he so uncomfortable when talking about himself in that manner? What the fuck.

"Okay, so not sexually intimate I see. Are you not attracted to her?"

Louis' eyes bulge for a second and he shakes his head immediately.

"No that's not the case. She is one of the most beautiful women I've ever laid eyes on. But I feel like since there's been that mental disconnection since we've drifted, I can't follow up with those actions. I won't give myself or someone else that type of experience if I'm not emotionally invested...or connected, I guess. It's ridiculous I know. If this was a client telling me this, I'd be thinking what a weirdo,"

"I don't think that's weird at all Louis. You value the emotional connection over the physical and that is a very valid thought to have. I've seen this happen a lot in relationships that are breaking down. It's reparable, it just takes some time," The third man suddenly speaks, breaking his silence.

"I suppose," Louis smiles to himself, feeling a little less awkward.

"In your previous or current relationships. What have you found to be your turn on's and turn-offs?"

"That's a bit personal... This is a social experiment where we get partnered with someone right? What are you expecting us to do? Cheat on our current partners?" Louis' voice raises an octave as shock courses through his system.

"Not at all, that's the last thing we want for anybody. It's more about finding someone who may be able to match with you in the sense they can help you discover more about yourself, teach you things that will help you with your current relationship," The men all nod approvingly and Louis still feels discomfort in this situation.

"I am attracted to emotional and mental intelligence. I also like someone who is driven, passionate, and powerful. I feel like I am turned on by maturity, that's something that's really important to me. I don't like someone who is overbearing. I like my own space, but I also don't mind someone who is attentive and listens well. It's always nice when someone pays attention to the little details or remembers them,"

"Do you find that Eleanor can be overbearing? Do you think that's why you're struggling now?"

Louis thinks hard and closes his eyes to replay their relationship dynamic and all the moments that led to this. She was overbearing and quite clingy, and it had definitely grown worse over time.

"I suppose you're right. She's heavily reliant on me and our relationship. I don't really like it no. Independence is kind of hot, in my opinion," Louis shrugs, realising very quickly that maybe Eleanor isn't what he needs right now. She was doing everything he disliked. Shit.

While the men talk amongst themselves for a minute, Louis finds himself completely disassociating from the environment around him. His eyes stay focused on the carpet and his mind starts to whirr with memories of him and Eleanor. The memories are of the happiest when they were students and drunkenly kissing after the endless nights at the bar, and Louis can feel his heart starting the flutter faster. The memories quickly transition to the drunken kiss that caused the major divide in the first place. Louis' jaw is clenched so tight he swears his teeth might shatter, and all the alarm bells are going off in his head. He can feel the anxiety attack creeping up and very fast.

"Are your parents welcoming of Eleanor? What would you do if they did not approve of your relationship?" The sentence immediately snaps Louis out of his panicked trance, and he inhales deeply.

"My mother has welcomed Eleanor since day one, totally loves the woman if we're honest. In regards to what I'd do if there wasn't approval? I'm not quite sure. I think gaining acceptance from family and friends is completely vital to a healthy relationship. If there were a lot of backlashes and made life difficult, I couldn't see myself sticking around to deal with that. My mentality is too fragile for that excess drama," Louis cracks his knuckles to keep himself from fidgeting like a lunatic, and he looks to the ceiling as he carefully thinks out his reply. "I don't have that issue with Eleanor so it's fine. She's fit in perfectly,"

"Have you had any previous relationships that they didn't approve of?"

"No. None that they knew about anyway. I've been a pretty private guy most of my life and kept my dating life completely separated from family. It's just as I've got older and the expectations of settling down became more serious that I sort of let them in on it,"

"What's the most attractive thing about someone of the same gender?"

And that's the question where Louis almost breaks his neck with how fast he turns to look back at the men. They have their pens ready to write and eyeball Louis with playful eyes. What kind of questions are these? This has nothing to do with his current relationship.

"I'm in fact straight, so I don't think that question matters here," Louis snaps, voice suddenly filled with outrage. It definitely doesn't help that Niall has styled him in the matter that he probably looks like he's come straight out of mardi gras.

"These are just standard questions, we like to see all aspects of a person Louis," The man with brown eyes looks like he's suppressing laughter which makes Louis immediately seethe. This is just one giant game for them. Louis finds himself chewing the inside of his cheek harshly to stop himself from ripping into them.

"Well. The most attractive thing about the same gender is that they're often assertive and know what they want. Compared to women, they're a little bit more reliant on us making the first move. Just from observation anyway,"

It continues like this for another 15 minutes with questions getting so deep and personal that it makes Louis increasingly more uncomfortable and agitated. But once it's over and he politely shakes the hands of the professionals, he makes a quick dash for the car park. He feels sick to his stomach and the silk feels like it's constricting around his body and making it virtually impossible to breathe. He's broken into a full sprint and he's mentally thanking Niall for parking so close because he wasn't fit enough to run far distances and he wanted to be far away from here as fast as possible. As he steps into the car park, his eyes do a quick scan of the area around him. He lets out a sigh of relief as he notices the Irishman leaning against the bonnet of the car with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Louis forces his aching legs to move again and he ignores the burning in his chest. He was so physically unfit it wasn't even funny. Exercise was something he really needed to work on...like yesterday. He ignores Niall's smart comment as he's now within earshot, and quickly moves to the side of the car and swinging it open. As he sits down on the leather seats, he rests his head against the window. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes deep breaths trying to stop the panic attack that's overtaking every aspect of his being.

"Are you acting like that because you're out of breath, or are you having like a weird moment?" Niall's head pops through the driver's side window that is wound down, blue eyes filled with concern.

Niall watches Louis carefully and considers what to do when the boy doesn't respond. He notices the way his shoulders hunch, and the way Louis frantically rubs his palms on the outer part of his thighs.

"Panic attack? What the hell happened in there? That bad huh?" Niall instantly puts out his cigarette and climbs into the car. He doesn't hesitate to turn the aircon on and shift the vents so they land directly on Louis. Surely the cool air will help with it. He doesn't know what to do. Louis doesn't respond with any words, just a quick hum and a nod of his head.

"I'm not meaning to be a dick here but you're the psychologist here. I'm not trained in how the fuck to help someone. What do I do? Do I hold your hand? Pat your head? Give me something to work with," Niall speaks far too quickly, and it doesn't help with Louis' mind that won't slow down. Louis notices Niall's hand gently rest on his shoulder, it's just enough for Louis to register the feeling of it.

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up. The aircon is good. Just...just drive," Louis speaks one word at a time, between deep breaths. He's trying to focus on bringing his heart rate down because he might either puke right about now or just pass out. And he knows he'll never hear the end of it if he pukes on the leather.

There's silence for almost the whole drive until Louis quietly asks Louis if they can go to his apartment instead.

"I can't go back to her. I can't look at her," Louis' voice is beyond weak, and Niall frowns. His eyes quickly flashing from the road ahead to Louis who looks defeated.

"What? You love her Louis...What the hell happened in there? I've never seen you like this,"

Louis chuckles to himself and looks over to Niall with a lazy smile on his face. The panic had completely drained him of any energy and he'll need another caffeinated beverage today or else he'll stay asleep in Niall's bed all day.

"I think I just experienced my very own psychologist appointment. The very thing I've been avoiding since high school," He's picking at the rips of the jeans again. He always fidgets when he's uncomfortable. "I hate this outfit; it makes me queasy. I want normal clothing on and I'm sorry but I'm raiding your wardrobe the literal moment we're inside your place,"

"That's fine. But you didn't answer me. Why can't you go back to Eleanor?"

"I can't face her. I feel so fucking guilty Niall...she's done nothing wrong and I'm so emotionally distant and I can't bring myself to fake it. It's killing me. I don't think...I don't know. I love her but I don't know if we're good for each other," Louis huffs, and the weight of the world on his shoulders slightly ease.

"Not good for each other?" Niall repeats slowly, testing the words out himself to make sure he's hearing it right. His hands grip the steering wheel tighter. Louis doesn't talk about this shit, ever.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just overthinking, those people love to get inside peoples heads," Louis waves his hand as if to shoo off the idea. Niall raises an eyebrow and can't help the quick laugh that escapes his mouth and he notices the frown on Louis' face.

" _Those_ people happen to be the exact same as what _you_ do for a living,"

"It's our job to get into people's heads, but I don't want anyone in my head. I didn't ask for it. This is your fault, to be honest. You did this to me. Also...what the fuck did you put in my application?" Louis suddenly perks up, eyes widening as his interest suddenly rises.

"Oh look, we're home," Niall instantly replies and speeds up the driveway to avoid that conversation.

There wasn't a chance in hell that Niall was going to speak about the application questions and what the answers were. Niall felt like he understood more about Louis more than anyone, sometimes even his own mother. In fact, he knew more about Louis' adult personal life than his mother. It doesn't stop Louis from pestering for answers though. But he refuses. Because one thing is for sure...if Louis Tomlinson had any idea what had been written on the application he would without a doubt crucify his best friend.


	5. Always Have Struggled To Bite My Tongue

Louis really wasn't planning on making any plans to return home because the guilt he was experiencing was eating away at him at a rapid speed. He knows it's a dangerous game when Niall offers him a comforting glass of whiskey on the rocks, but Louis happily obliges anyway. He appreciates that Niall doesn't press him for answers about the interview and doesn't keep up a constant barrage about Eleanor. The whiskey is bitter and burns the back of Louis' mouth and instantly warms his chest as he shots it back without a second thought, and he hisses to himself as he cringes at the taste. It gets better over time and right now this is the remedy to any of the angst he's experiencing.

The afternoon flows smoothly, and soon enough Louis is drunkenly stumbling around the complex, and Niall is blasting music through his speakers. With a drink in each of their hands, they weave their other arms together and sway side to side screaming incoherently to lyrics. They're a drunken, embarrassing mess but Louis wouldn't have it any other way. The thoughts of Eleanor have been pushed to the back of his brain, and the music and laughs are now at the forefront of his brain and releasing the serotonin he desperately needed.

"Do you have any projects due tonight? Am I impeding?" Louis mumbles into Niall's ear, focusing hard on keeping himself from slurring the words together. "We really should do this more often," Louis sighs to himself and smiles widely. This is one of the times that the real happiness shines, and the smile that Eleanor desperately missed would come out to play.

"No projects tonight. We're focusing on Project Fuck-Eyed tonight," Niall can barely finish his sentence before he starts uncontrollably laughing at his own joke. One thing that Louis absolutely adored about his best friend was that his laughter was so infectious and always lightened the mood.

"Idiot,"

"Eleanor keeps calling you, you know?" Niall's bloodshot eyes focus on Louis' phone that lights up for what appears to be the millionth time, and Louis slumps as he stares at Eleanor's name that is lit up on the screen.

"Yeah, I keep noticing that. I don't know what to say to her," Louis sighs, leaning forward and holding it tightly in his hands. The vibrations instantly irk Louis and he swallows thickly staring down at the device. "She's going to lose her mind,"

Niall doesn't say a single word and also attempts to turn the music down as fast as he can as Louis places the phone to this ear. The conversation stretches for 10 minutes, and even results in Louis going and sitting outside for fresh air. Niall occasionally hears him raise his voice in defence and he just knows how much trouble they're in. After that night in the pub Louis' been on lockdown and Eleanor's kept him on a tight leash and this might be the tip of the iceberg.

And it is. When Louis returns he radiates an energy that makes Niall shift uncomfortable. His eyes are glazed over and eyed puffy as if he's been crying, which isn't a common occurrence at all. Niall has witnessed Louis cry a total of 2 times since knowing him, not even when he broke his ankle in soccer practice. Louis fumbles for cigarettes the second he walks inside, his shoulders rigid and face so tight it looks like it's carved of stone.

"You alright, mate?"

"What do you think Niall? She said if I don't come back right now, then don't come back at all," Louis' voice is unstable, cracking every now and then as his fingers shake holding the unlit cigarette. He loudly stumbles around for the lighter, a stream of swearing escaping his mouth as he does so. "I'm not going back there. I guess it's over. Just like that? All because I mentally needed some time to myself with you. She's acting like we're in a strip club,"

Niall instantly perks up at the last part, his eyes widened and his body jerking to stand up. A large puppy-like smile is plastered across his face as he throws his hands towards the ceiling. "That...That might be the best idea you've had this year," and then he starts rubbing his hands together in deep thought. But Louis doesn't want a bar of it.

"No. Lads night in. I want to smoke a joint, drink the whiskey and forget this day ever existed. I know I'm not going to be accepted in. There are thousands of people that will be an instant shoo-in for it, it was fun but it's not for me,"

So Louis does what he wants that night. He completely and utterly writes himself off with an endless supply of whisky on the rocks and joints that leave his body floating in the abyss. The night is a constant blur of faded music, laughs...and eventually the strip club. The second half of the night fades in and out in Louis' memory. The night is filled with the image of red lights, and bodies coloured red by them. It's filled with wondering hands, lips pressed against Louis' throat and strangled moans. Louis isn't sure where they're coming from but he's in a state of pure ecstasy.

It all comes crashing down on Louis though the next afternoon when he wakes up in a California sized king bed amid multiple half-naked bodies. There's a total of 4 women and then a stark-naked Niall that is on the other side of the bed still snoring, completely unaware of the situation. It's when Louis realises that he's truly lost everything. There was no coming back from this.

That's until he checks his phone and there's an email congratulating him on being chosen as one of the couples to attend The Experiment. He didn't realise it was happening so fast and before he can register anything, he leans forwards and brings up the entire contents of his stomach on the alabaster carpet.

"Shit,"

⸸⸸⸸

Louis had two weeks. Two weeks to plan to put a complete and utter pause on his life and make plans to be uprooted from everything he knew and placed into the unknown. He spent two weeks sleeping in an empty house that no longer contained any evidence that Eleanor existed, just an empty house with an empty soul. His phone calls went unanswered, along with his texts. But there's a slither of hope that fills his soul when he receives confirmation that she has agreed to attend the getaway. A private tropical paradise, free from fears and insecurities. He had two weeks to prepare physically, emotionally, and spiritually for what was coming and how he would approach the situation.

He attempted meditation, exercise and eating a little healthier to try and cleanse himself so he didn't feel as uptight and stressed about the situation. But none of it worked. He was beyond worked up about it. And when the big day arrives Louis considers attempting a tactical vomit just to ease panic-induced nausea in the pits of his stomach but by the time he's about to do it, he's already being urged out the door. The flights take up an entire day and half, including the layovers and Louis, probably gets about 6 hours total sleep. It's constantly interrupted by random bouts of turbulence, anxiety or the thought of Eleanor being with another male.

Which he has no right to be upset about. The audacity to feel this way after what he's done to her.... But there's only so much time that he can panic for because when he arrives, he feels his fears melt away.

The island in which Louis is thrusted upon for the duration of the experiment is otherworldly. He finds himself staring in absolute wonderment at the tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the array of bursting colours from the budding flowers in the surrounding shrubbery. The entire scenery is paradise and when Louis finds himself wiggling his toes in the sand, he really starts to think he could get used to this.

He had spent too many hours of his adult life scrolling Pinterest imagining a proper getaway with cocktails, the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline and the sun bearing down on him. A holiday in which there was no psychoanalysing clients, no resentment of life and mostly no stress of a fractured relationship. There are a few moments where it's just Louis and the island; where the birds softly chirp and the breeze carries the sound of the ocean. It's an instant sense of serenity and the boost of serotonin his body desperately needed.

Louis drag his luggage behind him and excitedly makes his way in the direction of the villa. He can see the outline of it through the dense foliage, and when he feels his own heart rate beginning to rise with both anxiety and amazement he moves faster. The anxiety coming from a place of realisation. The realisation that whoever the professionals have partnered him with would most likely be inside. There's thought and a reminder that Eleanor is somewhere also being partnered crosses Louis' mind which leaves a distinctly bitter feeling in the pits of his stomach. The feeling begins as a trickle but within seconds almost completely bowls him over as the reality sets in. He feels himself falter and he locks his legs and stops mid-stride, his luggage hitting the back of his leg as he halts.

The feeling is insidious, gradually creeping from the very pits of his stomach and making it's way up to his constricting chest. Louis has not been one to display jealousy, not in years but the feeling is gnawing at him in the most uncomfortable of ways. His mind automatically thinks of her in one of her scantily clad bikinis and the way almost her entire body will be on show for whatever male she's partnered with him. Any man with eyes would enjoy the view, and god Louis thinks he might be sick. This wasn't he thought it was going to be.

Why does it matter? For what reason would he have to feel this way when he isn't even in love with her anymore? Louis can't even answer that himself. He's pondering now, mind completely disassociating from his current location and instead focusing on the sudden inner turmoil he's experiencing. He's visualising someone else making her laugh, someone else holding her. There's bile rising in the back of his throat and his whole body shudders. He forces himself out of that downward spiral as fast as it overcomes him because he knows it very well might be the end of it before he's even started.

_She deserves happiness. I'm here so we can find it again._

Louis repeats his inner mantra, it starts off inside his head a few times before he's whispering it out loud. He's focused on the words and manifesting it into reality. He'll find himself again, and they'll come back together, and things will be fine. His fingers tighten around the luggage carrier again and he takes a deep breath and inhales the smell of the island. The air is crisp, clear and salty. It's the smell of the ocean that will be Louis' driving force. The smell and the sound. Louis focuses for a minute or two, grounding himself so he doesn't fly off the handle within the first few minutes of being here. He still has a whole other person to introduce himself too, and a whole being to learn about. As Louis forces himself to move again his eyes refocus on the villa that is slowly getting closer.

The entire vision is something quite literally out of one of the mood board's on Louis' phones that he's created. The sand a deep tone of beige yet a stark comparison against the bright greens of the ferns on the palm trees. The first thing Louis takes note of is the villa's astonishing beauty; it's completely built from clove brown wood and decorated with both lanterns placed occasionally around the place and fairy lights that wrap up the stairs for entry. Louis without a doubt has seen this in those wedding magazines that people refer to when planning honeymoons because this is quite possibly the most beautiful yet romantic place, he's set his eyes on. Which wasn't easy considering before this moment, the most romantic place he'd been was drive-in theatre and the back of his car. He wasn't good at that, but this.... this was everything someone could want and more.

"I hope Eleanor gets something similar to this, she'd be beside herself with excitement...," Louis whispers to himself in amazement, trailing off as she nears the wooden masterpiece. There isn't a sign of life from the outside and Louis starts to wonder if he's actually the first one to arrive, and he wouldn't be mad about it either. This could give him time to make himself comfortable and settle in and mentally prepare for interaction.

As he starts to take each step up towards the villa, he's hyper-aware of how loud his heart is racing. With each step, there is a hard thump in his chest. It's slow-motion, and Louis slowly breathes in and out with each step.

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

There's a total of six steps before Louis is standing on the front porch. He looks back over his shoulder to quickly scan the area around him. It's more beautiful looking outwards than looking at the villa. The scenery is breathtaking, and he can't wait to watch the sunrise and sunset every day while drinking a warm cup of tea. Speaking of a cup of tea, that's most definitely an essential item that is required. And STAT. Louis takes another quick sweep of the area, eyes focusing on the violet orchids, hot pink orchids and canary yellow angel trumpets that droop. He mentally takes note to pick them later, because he wants a bouquet to himself and then he pulls at the carrier again and forces himself towards the door.

Louis places his hand on the doorknob and holding his breath as he tests to see if it's unlocked for him. Which it is. Thankfully. The door opens with swift ease and he steps inside. The entire island is already humid...it's a tropical island for fuck sake. And it's a welcoming gift when he's automatically introduced with the wave of cool aircon that envelops his whole body, instantly relieving the warmth of Louis' skin and his brain sighing at the feeling of cold air again. He stays there for a few seconds relishing in the way the breeze kisses at the partially sweaty skin and then he pushes his sunnies up from his nose and into his hair so he can look around.

The place is spotless, and he does look down in case there are shoes that are left near the entrance. Any telltale sign that someone has entered before him, but nothing. There's also silence which is also equally as welcoming as the cold air. Inside is very homely....very tropical. Everything is wooden, and there are bright decorations placed around that brings warmth to the interior. The walls are painted a soft beige beside one rusted brown feature wall. It all tied in perfectly, in Louis' opinion. It left a sense of tranquillity, peace and home... a home away from home.

The bedroom isn't too far from the entrance and Louis is beyond done with hauling his clothing around everywhere. So he decides to quickly dump it into the room before adventuring his new home for the next three months. The very first thing he notices as he steps inside is luggage that is already placed neatly in the room. Louis' breath instantly leaves his chest as he stares at it, his whole body locking up in a sudden panic.

Okay, so he isn't the only one here. It really does sound like he's the only one at the villa so maybe they've gone to tour the island for a while. He wouldn't blame them, to be honest, he was planning on doing it immediately after familiarising himself with his new abode. The luggage doesn't give away much, which irks Louis instantaneously. Louis finds that luggage is usually very telling of someone's personality, or a slight insight as to what someone is like.

Louis' luggage is a chocolate brown with imprints of little blue boats placed haphazardly all around it. It's a very nautical theme and that's only because Louis really does like the ocean, he loves being on boats and he's adventurous. He knows Eleanor hauls around Burberry luggage and there is not much more to say with that. She's sophisticated, professional and very well-mannered and her luggage is a great representation of that.

Louis stops himself mid analysing and chuckles to himself, shaking his head at the sheer ridiculousness of his thoughts. It's just fucking luggage, there's nothing ground-breaking about an item that is purely used to store clothing and personal items in. He notices that the luggage is leaning against the left side of the bed, so Louis decides that this is very clearly already their room. So, his mind starts to think about finding the spare room so he can set up for this godforsaken trip.

Before he can turn away though, he finds himself completely entranced by the simple yet sleek luggage. And he has to place a hand over his mouth as he notices the Gucci imprints in the black material. There's laughter that bubbles in the back of his throat and he throws all his energy into not laughing like a lunatic right now.

_Pretentious Gucci Princess._

Louis has no idea what he's got himself into now, and who he's about to face. Nothing good comes from those who strut around thinking their god's gift to earth with their expensive designer brand outfits. Louis can't help but think _how_ much Gucci that suitcase holds. He's sure he'll see the endless supply very soon.

Right now, Louis really couldn't be assed dragging this heavy bag around the place trying to find his way around, so he makes the executive decision to leave it by the front door inside. He'll come back and grab it once he's figured out his permanent place of residence. He's tired but at the same, there's now a sense of urgency running through his veins. There's also the fear of the unknown, knowing that any minute a woman can walk through the door and then all the fun begins. Louis does one more once over on the room, mind secretly begging for any type of giveaway or insight on who this person is.

The curiosity at this point is unbearable so Louis turns on his heel and leaves the room before his brain starts to cause mass panic. He needs to not look like a psychopath when meeting someone new, his brain can ask questions later. It becomes abundantly clear very, very quickly there is no second bed. Each time Louis pop his head into one of the rooms he notices couches, a fucking _grand piano_ , bookshelves and meditation rooms.... but not one single bed.

"Absolutely not," Louis suddenly says out loud, eyes darting around as he mentally prepares a silent prayer that this isn't some sick joke and they're making them share a bed. Because no way on god's green earth was he going to be sharing a bed with a woman he doesn't know.

And over his dead body would Eleanor be sharing the bed with a strange man. Fuck. Louis runs his hands through his hair, his mind starting to whir overtime and he needs to step outside for fresh air literally right now or he might faint. His eyes train on the handle to the back door and he forces his now heavy feet to move, terror suddenly bursting through his veins. A feeling he's dealt with almost his entire life. The formation of a true panic attack. It doesn't last long because once the door flies open and Louis stumbles out, he hears a thud as if someone drops something in shock.

"Oops," is what instantaneously leaves Louis' mouth as he steadies himself, flattening out his shirt and eyes slowly moving from the floor to the source of the thud. If he thought entering the villa was in slow motion, he was completely mistaken.

It's in that moment that the world itself tilts on its axis and there's a polar shift. Every magical thing to exist on this planet happens simultaneously. There is a solar eclipse. The sun, the earth and the moon are aligned, and time and space are frozen in this exact moment. There's a heavy feeling in Louis' chest but he can't quite register it yet, and he can't register the fact he isn't breathing. Louis blinks. Once. Twice.

Each moment his eyelids close he can see galaxies, he's sure of it. He's now without a doubt that he's completely reached insanity at this point and is completely hallucinating what is in front of him. His heart is automatically thudding heavy against his chest, blood pulsing in his ears now to the point it's deafening. His breath comes out shallow yet heavy, completely uneven as his body is still yet to catch up with the sheer impact of the situation. The energetic pull that suddenly surrounds Louis is overbearing and wraps around his throat like it's strangling him, it's begging for him to take a step forward and his eyes are screaming to look back.

"Hi," The words are like the smoothest silkiest velvet that Louis' ever experienced. It's something that even the gods themselves would go to battle over, and Louis feels the weakening of his knees intensifying. His mouth is completely dry, all blood very quickly draining from his upper body and dropping to his feet. Along with his heart. One word, one syllable and Louis think he might pass away right on the spot. He hopes this person knows CPR or at least has a cellular device to contact paramedics because this is his last moment alive. He's sure of it now.

The voice is deep, laced thick with an accent that causes the heavens to open up above Louis and the angels in the choir are singing. Louis can see the light. It's either the light or he's just about to faint and his vision is actually exiting the building.

"Are you...You're the one I'm partnered up with, yeah?" The voice speaks again, and it's more than one syllable this time. He speaks slow, so aching slow but his voice is rugged and Louis sucks in a deep breath. His eyes can't seem to hold focus as they dart from looking at his feet back to the man that is standing just a couple feet away.

Louis can't speak, his vocal cords are completely constricted and his airways have collapsed in on themselves. All he can do is stare as his eyes now completely focus on the figure that's taken a weary step towards him. Louis' whole eyesight is overwhelmed with the soft baby pink suit that has embroidery of hot pink flowers with green stems. Louis stares mouth agape as his eyes slowly move from the suit to the face that matches the voice.

Bad decision.

This the height of the eclipse, the part where it is beyond dangerous and more than likely cause damage to one's retinas. But people will risk it, risk it to take in the beauty of the universe's creation. That is what Louis is feeling right now as his eyes heat up at the sight of the beauty that is surely illegal in every continent and country in this world. In the universe. No one. No one has the right. The audacity and nerve to possess the looks that the angels cry about. Louis' brain finally starts to catch up with his mouth, as the jaded green eyes stare at Louis wide with mass amounts of concern. He's watching Louis with a bewildered look that causes Louis to start stammering so looks less like an idiot. But in fact, it does the total opposite.

"I-I'm here to be partnered up with a woman. I-I think I got the wrong villa. I'm so sorry." Louis' voice comes out like a deflating balloon, shrill and enough for Louis to also deflate physically. There's suddenly so much heat that takes over Louis' body that causes him to start shaking.

There's no way. Louis knows he got the right villa, so surely this _thing_ has his location twisted. Louis has to recover and fast because this just looks like pure clownery. He's already dressed like a Cirque Du Soleil act, he doesn't need to fucking act the part too. He shakes his head and laughs again, straightening his back and fingers brushing through his hair, slightly knocking his glasses that are perched above his head.

"Wait, I'm sorry. I do have the right place so you must be mistaken. I'm Louis Tomlinson by the way, and you are?" He attempts to cover his tracks and outstretches his hand for a proper introduction. He silently begs that the man declines but he watches as the arm covered in the baby pink suit reaches towards him. Louis' eyes are trained on the way his fingers are covered in multitudes of rings, all unique. He notices two are initials: H & S. Henry? _Prince fucking Henry_. Their hands meet and his grip is warm, soft, tight, manly...everything at once that causes sweat to start prickling at the back of Louis' neck. The stark contrast between the warmth of his hands and the coolness of the rings makes Louis' head spin. And not to mention the size of those hands. Jesus Christ. Louis bites the inside of his cheek.

The heat out here is unbearable and the fact this man is walking around wearing a god damn suit. Who does he think he is? The king of England? The audacity. There's a surge of electricity at this tiny interaction and it shoots up Louis' arm and zaps his brain within an instant. But Louis clenches his jaw and forces a smile, while his brain goes into complete nuclear meltdown.

"I'm Harry. Harry Styles. And I most definitely have the right villa. My grand piano is here," He says without a blink, and then suddenly the warmth and comfort of his hand is gone.

Louis' mind is suddenly reliving looking at that giant black piano that appeared in that empty room that looks suspiciously out of place. Louis just thought it was there in case he or his experimental partner wanted to grow or work on skills. But it all makes sense and now Louis bites on his lip to stop another laugh erupting.

"I don't understand what you're laughing at," Harry says flatly, turning towards the object that had fallen to the floor just a few moments ago. An object that Louis had completely forgotten about in that moment. Louis observes silently as Harry picks up an acoustic guitar that is covered in tiny stickers and quote and Louis is suffocating internally. Who the hell decided this? Harry's hair dangles in loose curls and brushes his jawline with each slight movement, and shines like it's a celestial being on it's own. Whatever shampoo he uses it must be good. And he must also be rich. What kind of sick joke is this? "Are you just going to stand there and gape like a fish out of water? Or..." Harry looks over his shoulder, throwing Louis a strange look with blank eyes.

It's enough for Louis to snap out of his trance and frown again, shaking his head. He crosses his arms and looks around the backyard and then turns his head back towards inside the villa.

"I don't understand what's happening here? We're both supposed to be here. Are we like the first two lads to enter and there's going to be two birds as well? I don't remember them saying we were in groups," Louis sighs, mentally telling his heart to slow down or he might have a cardiac arrest right now.

"It's pretty simple Louis. We don't get divided into groups. It's just you and I. Harry and Louis. Louis and Harry. We've been matched by the relationship gods," Harry's full pink lips turn into a smile and he flashes his teeth playfully. All straight, all perfectly white. And Louis wants to pull his hair out as he notices the dimples that appear on either side of his cheeks. What the fuck.

"We've been matched..." Louis repeats, trying to let the words sink into his brain. His knee jerk reaction is to laugh. Immediately turning the situation into a complete joke and it's clearly much to Harry's distaste. His jaw clenches and his jawline protrude in offensive ways and his eyebrows knit together in a frown.

"What is so funny? Care to enlighten me. I have had a long day sitting around waiting to see who's going to walk in the door. I was expecting someone that was matched to my taste," There's no sign of emotion besides bitter anger as Harry moves fast over to the daybed and lays back. He rests his arms behind his head and crosses one leg over another as he looks at Louis with one eye open.

"I think they've got it twisted. I have a girlfriend-,"

"As do I," Harry shoots back, face null and void of any emotion. Louis is starting to come undone at the seams and he knows he's leaving the villa once this introduction is over. There are no exchanging pleasantries because there is nothing pleasant about this at all.

"I'm straight. My best friend must've set this up," Louis forces it out and feels a strange twinge of something in his gut that causes him to suddenly fidget uncomfortably with his shirt. He suddenly feels miniscule under the gaze of Harry and he hates it. This type of judgement was reserved for him and him only when in the workplace. But he's here to not be scrutinized.

"I, once, also thought I was straight. Your best friend might have done you a solid. Clearly, they know something you don't," Harry closes his eyes again and Louis' mind starts playing ways of strangling this Gucci prince haired douche with the sleeves of his pink million-dollar suit. His hands clench into tight fists at his side as he imagines playing out a murder right on that daybed.

"I'm not going to be invalidated. You are well within your rights to explore your sexual freedom. Congratulations. Gay rights! It's awesome you are so comfortable with yourself. However, I am not in any shape or form... like that. I have to leave," Louis speaks quickly and awkwardly as if it's ripping off a band-aid. He doesn't even give Harry the chance to reply with a smart-ass comment as he turns on his heel and makes a quick beeline inside again.

Once again, the cool air is welcoming and helps ease the rage and panic that are coursing through Louis' entire being right now, but he doesn't stop to smell the roses or take it in this time. He is on a mission to leave. His luggage is at the front door all ready to go. Thank god he didn't unpack.

Niall is dead. A dead man walking. Louis is going to wring his neck and watch the life leave his eyes. He's never felt this much rage in all his years of existing.

"Wait," Harry's voice suddenly ricochets across the room, it's loud and instantly makes Louis jump and turn towards it. It's commanding and Louis is an instant slave to it. Harry steps inside and is pulling off his jacket, revealing a plain white well-fitted t-shirt. Louis notices his arms are littered in tattoo's, but he doesn't have time to stare at each individual one. He's leaving.

"Stay. It's a holiday after all. We're here to find ourselves. I'm not here for any funny business. No ill intention here. You won't have to worry about me, I'll sleep on the couch or the hammock outside. The views nice and the beach is calming. Just stay," There's almost a sense of pleading which completely throws Louis off. He's known this man for five minutes and he knows already that he isn't the type to beg.

"What's it to you if I stay or leave?" Louis raises an eyebrow cautiously, shoving his hands in his pocket as he awkwardly shifts his weight on the balls of his feet. He doesn't like being under the direct gaze of Harry and it's taken one quick interaction to realise this.

Harry gently places his jacket over the back of the couch, eyeballing it as he internally second-guesses just leaving it around like that. Louis considers grabbing the thing and throwing it out the door just to make a point, but he's pulled out of his thoughts as Harry speaks again.

"You're here for a reason, are you not? This is some last-ditch attempt to bring you and your... girlfriend back together? You don't want that?" Harry blinks in a way that is seductive without him even trying, and it causes Louis' stomach to coil with heat. Louis clears his throat as Harry's eyes slowly drag up Louis' figure, and Louis' certain that they pause on his exposed collarbones. It's enough for Louis to feel his heart rise into the back of his throat and lips quiver slightly.

"Eleanor...Eleanor and I will be able to sort it out. We've been together long enough to know we can make it through anything,"

"Things must be pretty dire to be here though, right? I'm being serious when I say you have nothing to worry about. I'm not going to touch you," Louis feels searing-hot rage flicker behind his eyes for a fleeting second, as he watches Harry's provocative mouth turn up in the corners slightly. They tilt up in a mocking way and when Harry bites down into the plump softness of his lips, Louis considers launching the closest lamp at his head.

"I fucking hate it here," Louis instantly retorts in embarrassment, feeling completely and utterly violated with the way those godforsaken eyes transfixed on him. He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling, counting down from ten to keep himself together.

"I'm just here to enjoy the island, the beach and maybe take some inspiration while I'm here," Harry's whole demeanour switches as he shrugs with complete nonchalance, the eye's finally breaking off from where Louis stands and switches to gazing back outdoors.

"Inspiration for what? I'm not going to inspire you romantically. I have absolutely nothing to teach you..." Louis' interest is now piqued, and he raises an eyebrow in curiosity. Harry hums to himself and that itself causes Louis to lean into the couch. What is going on? This is completely out of character. He's never felt with this way with anyone in his entire life? And it's all over a bloody abhorrently dressed prince? Louis has better taste than that.

"I wasn't asking for your romantic guidance, mister Louis Tomlinson. This is just as much a getaway for me then it is for you," The utter depth of his voice makes Louis' mouth pool with saliva and makes his fingers tingle in ways he didn't know were possible. Every time a word is spoken Louis instinctively stops breathing without even realising. He didn't want to miss a single syllable.

"You seem pretty calm about this set-up. Are you not even remotely appalled?" Louis trails off for a moment while the brain tries to connect to this mouth, so he doesn't have verbal diarrhea. "We don't even get a decent shot at this experience,"

"I wouldn't say appalled. I'm disappointed in their relationship matching qualities, though. Where did they get their psychology degrees from? Preschool?" Harry edges back towards the door and stops to finish the sentence. His hand presses against the doorframe, long fingers splayed as he turns towards Louis and chuckles to himself. His laugh is made of both milk and honey. It's a laugh that could cure the darkest of days, and make the sun reappear. His voice velvet, and his laugh a remedy. Louis' certain that this man is a mythical being.

"I wouldn't start making fun of psychology degrees," Louis mutters, eyes narrowing as Harry flips the mop of chestnut curls out of his face. Harry's brows knit together in a small frown as he tries to understand what Louis is saying, and when his face softens and eyebrows lift slightly then Louis knows he might have finally got it. Louis crosses his arms in a way that both cradles his chest in a comforting way, but also trying to assert any sort of dominance.

"Wonderful. I've been paired with a psychologist, wonderful. I can't wait to hear my full psychological report and diagnosis at the end of this. I'll save you all the trouble and let you know I'm a bit of a narcissist so you can write that down,"

Louis can't help but scoff in response. His jaw is beginning to ache with the way he clenches and he isn't sure if he's body can produce any more anger at this point. He exhales at a painfully slow pace before responding. "I wouldn't waste my precious hours here just to analyse a piss-poor celebrity wannabe wash up like yourself. I don't know what you're trying to achieve with your stupid suits and expensive luggage. We're on a tropical holiday, we're both sweating bullets and you're just going to march around in thick suits made for the kings and queens of England? Get a grip of yourself, mate. Don't come for someone with a professional job when you probably live off your parent's income,"

Louis has always struggled at biting his tongue. It's one of the worst qualities about him and sometimes he releases relentless attacks on people who are both mentally and physically not equipped to deal with the sheer force behind it. He watches as Harry's entire lean frame goes rigid for a moment and his nostrils flare as he clenches his jaw. There's a murderous glow that radiates from him and it makes Louis uncomfortable. He watches as Harry's decorated fingers clenched and unclench into fists and his chest rise and fall rapidly.

"You'd want to watch your mouth. You don't know anything about me."

"You're not denying you live off your parent's money though," Louis responds without even thinking. It makes his insides scream and his fingers twitch as his hand wants to smack over his mouth. He needs to shut all the way the fuck up.

"I'm doing my best to make a living for myself, separate from their...lives. Partially why I'm here but that's none of your fucking business. Is it?" Harry's voice is suddenly thick with venom and Louis instantly coils back as if he was struck by lightning. The way the rage makes Harry sound, it instils the fear of god in Louis. "I'm going to get started on the cocktails that have been so kindly set out of us. Do you think you can push aside your negative attitude for a drink and loosen up a little? I don't want to be stuck with this kind of energy for three months. I came here to create something exceptional, not have more emotional burden,"

"What you mean create some-Do you have to be such a jackass?" Louis is on his feet again, following Harry out the door. The back of Harry is just as beautiful as the front, and it gives Louis more time to take in the ink that is littered carelessly all over his sun-kissed skin. "I don't think drinking is a good idea for me, actually,"

"Interesting. Well, you can sit there and gawk all you want but alcohol is the best welcoming gift we're going to get and you're missing out," Harry strides towards a small table that has multi-coloured cocktails with mini umbrella's. His large hands wrap around it effortlessly and Louis' mind is instantly in the gutter and he must shake the thought away before he starts to spiral.

"One drink won't hurt right?" Louis keeps his eyes trained on the table, hesitantly reaching for it. The glass is cold against his hand as he picks it up. He raises it slightly, eyes on Harry and the way his face twists into a playful grin that leaves butterflies fluttering in Louis' stomach.

How many emotions does this man want Louis to feel at once? The answer is unlimited. It's a new one every second.

"To paradise. And to finding ourselves," Harry raises the glass and outstretches his long and toned arm towards Louis'. Louis swallows dryly, his mind instantly in a fog as he realises how good those tattoos make him look. He's in a world of trouble.

"To paradise," Louis smiles meekly and lets out a breathy laugh and reaches forward to tap Harry's glass with his own in a small celebration. Their glasses softly clink together, signifying two worlds officially colliding.


	6. Arrogant Son Of A Bitch

As the day slowly progresses and the sun’s position in the clear sky slowly descends into the horizon, Louis notices Harry’s absence. There hadn’t been much more of a conversation between the two, besides some shared alcoholic beverages and a few smart remarks thrown back and forth between both he and Harry. There is a surge of curiosity that urges Louis to see what he’s up to but decides to give the man some space, after all, he also needs some time to process. He finds himself drinking a pineapple and strawberry cocktail that leaves a sickly-sweet taste in his mouth, and also leaves that familiar buzzing of tipsiness in his bloodstream. Louis knows to take it easy with the drinking, his track history definitely not the cleanest when it came to drunken behaviours. He tries his best not to let the memories of his deplorable actions spring to the forefront of his memory as he clenches his jaw, and eyes absentmindedly looking back into the house for any sign of the arrogant son of a bitch he’ll be spending his time with.

Louis gives himself five minutes to gather his bearings and mentally digest the _how, what, why and what-if’s_ of the situation, and when Harry doesn’t make an appearance Louis decides to make a break for it. The bright glow from the sun is slowly fading and sunset has arrived, and Louis decides he wants to witness the sunset in all its glory with no distractions. He needs to clear his mind, body and soul and think hard about the situation he has found himself in. Louis automatically feels adrenaline as he sneakily exits the villa, acting as if he is doing something wrong and will be caught, which isn’t the case at all. His escape is silent and goes unnoticed; there’s no Gucci clad stranger yelling after him or no smart-ass comments propelled in his direction. There’s a strange sense of achievement that fills Louis’ chest as he goes undetected, which causes him to think he might be clinically insane for it.

The air is humid and thick and the salty breeze kisses Louis’ skin and breathes life into his tense body. The journey from the villa to the beachfront takes no longer than 10 minutes, and it would have been a lot sooner if Louis didn’t keep stopping and admiring the view. It doesn’t take long before he’s lost in the rhythmic percussion of the waves on the white sand, and he’s sitting against a palm tree completely enveloped in the beauty of the world in front of him. 

Louis' eyes are unwavering as he holds a steady gaze at the horizon; face aglow as the fiery orb of light slowly sinks and disappears behind the mesmerizing ocean. The sky is the canvas of the greatest artist of all time and puts someone of the likes of Picasso to shame. The heavens dyed the colour of tangerine, then crimson red which bleeds into an Aegean blue, until all that is left is a chalky mauve that takes over the remainder. With each passing second, the colours swirl together, threatening to darken and Louis is watching as the stars begin illuminating the inked sky like sequin-silver, glistening, and demanding his breath to be taken away once again. He brings up the chilled cocktail glass to his lips, slowly sipping and savouring the sweet yet bitter taste of the summer fruits and the white rum it's mixed with. It's a combination that Louis didn't think he'd ever experience; drinking without nagging in his ears and witnessing probably the most beautiful sunset in the world. The most scenic of views..

There is a hint of a semblance of a smile, just enough to show that he’s enjoying his thoughts, whatever they may be. Louis closes his eyes slowly and slowly straightens his back and breathes in the ocean. The fresh air fills his lungs and as he exhales, he feels the warmth of the last of the sun brush against his skin. The warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze fit hand in hand. He takes the time to let the sunset soak deep into his memory and he tries his best to memorise every last feature the sky offers because this view might be his happy place. Just him, the lowering sun, the rising moon, and the unpredictable ocean.

As the sky slowly swirls and changes from the Aegean blue to indigo, leaving Louis bathing under the light of the rising moon and the trillions of twinkling stars that appear with every blink. There’s half an hour of complete serenity and absence of thought until the temperature begins to slowly drop and Louis can feel the coolness seeping through his pores. He doesn’t want to leave this spot because once he goes back, he has to face what he was trying to escape just now. And then it all comes tumbling down on him, weighing heavy on his shoulders, and causing a strange tenseness in his stomach. Louis tilts his head back and thoughtlessly sculls the remainder of the alcoholic contents of his glass and stares at the stars.

His next thought is what Eleanor is experiencing right now? The bitter feeling of jealousy rises in Louis’ chest and his body automatically becomes rigid at the thought of another male with his hands on her. It was not fair; he shouldn’t have the right to feel this way when he’s the reason they’re here in the first place. He closes his eyes and takes calculated, deep breaths to try and distract himself from the anxiety that was starting to course through his veins and cause his heart to start thudding louder in his ears.

When his eyes close, his mind decides to imagine the endless scenarios of what Eleanor could be doing right now. Was she somewhere equally as warm and sunny? Sunbaking alone and not giving the other person the light of day? That would be in Louis’ ideal world. Then there is the thought of them both drinking and laughing, and maybe there is even wondering hands. Louis’ eyes snap open as the thought crosses his mind and his stomach churns instinctively. He lets out a disgusted noise and shakes his head softly, forcing the thoughts to the back of his mind. His eyes falling back onto the sunset and brain focusing on his own situation again.

He does not want to break the pure perfection of the moment and be back in close vicinity of the man that leaves Louis unsure of what will happen next. Louis was not like that; he likes everything predictable and planned, but this man was the definition of walking on eggshells. He considers staying put and letting most of the night pass but when hunger starts setting in and he wants to down another cocktail he decides against it. He makes a mental promise to witness the sunset every afternoon and that nothing and no one would get in his way, especially Harry.

Louis forces himself up and stretches his legs out, reaching down to brush off any sand that sticks to his skin and clothes. He looks over the now dark waters and watches how the reflection of the moon ripples with each wave and he sighs and then turns on his heel. He doesn’t make it too far before his head starts to overcrowd with intrusive thoughts and questions about the person he’s been partnered with but he needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut. The walk back up to the villa feels ten times longer than the walk down but when he arrives, he pauses and rolls his shoulders a few times and forces the courage to enter again. His ears are automatically welcomed with the melody of gentle music. It softly carries its way through the house, and as Louis gets closer to the main area the music is louder. There are no words and has a more cultural aspect to it. There’s drums, humming, chimes, and guitar; it is a nice vibe overall. Nothing compares to the earlier vibes so maybe Harry has cleaned his act up.

Louis does not make it more than two steps further before he hears Harry’s voice from behind him, causing his whole body to jolt and he turns himself so fast it almost gives him whiplash. “You decided to return, was starting to think you’d done the dash and got so desperate you left your luggage behind too,”

Louis’ mind instantly thinks that Harry had gone and checked to see whether he had _actually_ left and there’s a smidgen on guilt for making him feel that way. Guilt… and for what reason? He notices that Harry had changed out of his ridiculous suit and into something more casual and Louis subconsciously searched for a sign of the logo that seems to be his trademark. He is donned in a partially unbuttoned multi-coloured t-shirt and a pair of muted plum corduroy jeans. His hair still in loose ringlets that touch his shoulders and simultaneously sweep across his forehead at the same time, and eyes filled with both playfulness and a hint of annoyance.

“I decided to go out for a wander, make myself familiar with the island and all its inhabitants,” Louis says smoothly, and truthfully, he had been mentally rehearsing what he would say. He watches as Harry shrugs and starts to walk towards the backyard again that is now lit up by sticks of fire and lanterns. His features glowing under the light of the flickering flames.

“There’s a banquet waiting for us, you mightn’t be hungry but I sure am. I’m not going to sit around like a fool and wait anymore,” Harry’s gaze moves from outside and back to Louis, who stands stunned and confused. A banquet? IS Harry Styles a member of the royal family?

Louis’ feet start moving before he can register, and he is now super alert to the gnawing hunger in the pits of his stomach and the rumbling that would be embarrassingly loud if it were not for the music. He steps outside, instantly engulfed in the warmth of the flames and eyes landing on the _literal_ feast that is set out on a large mahogany table.

There is a platter of fruits; banana’s, strawberries, blueberries, watermelon, kiwi fruit and grapes. Both red and green. Raspberries, pomegranate, and lychees. There’s an array of cheeses, dips and crackers. But there’s also full meals, different choices made for the entirety of Europe. There’s a section purely for seafood; prawns, mussels, calamari, oysters, lobster, salmon, crab. There is a whole section dedicated to meats, there are fries and American style food. Louis’ mouth is watering at the sight.

“And this is all for just us two? That’s hardly fair. What are they going to do with the waste?” Louis says softly whilst reaching for a plate and starting with the seafood section. “Why are you only filling your plate up with vegetables. How many peas does one man need?” Louis eyes Harry as he consciously picks at only the vegetables and occasionally popping a piece of fruit in his mouth as he ponders.

“It’s what I eat,” Harry says flatly and does not even bother looking at Louis who stares with an incredulous look on his face that’s mixed with confusion.

“You don’t eat meat? Not even seafood?” Louis’ interest suddenly peaks, and he watches as Harry makes himself comfortable in one of the chairs.

“It’s not my favourite,”

“And the peas are?” Louis scrunches up his nose and shakes his head. When Harry doesn’t respond Louis finishes piling the different types of food on his plate and sits in the seat directly across from the bizarre man.

To make things a million times more bizarre, he takes in the view of Harry closing his eyes and lacing his fingers together and elbows resting on the table. Louis lips part in shock as he finds himself witnessing this man praying. This was a set-up, right? He takes this short time to really analyse who is across from him, and the way his face is relaxed and at ease. A first for today. He doesn’t know whether to keep staring and probably get caught staring like a creep, or just awkwardly dig in. After a few seconds, he decides to just eat anyway, and he places a piece of roast potato in his mouth. The texture and taste are incredible.

“Are you kidding?” Harry’s voice suddenly breaks the awkward silence and Louis’ eyes shoot towards him, stopping mid-chew. He raises an eyebrow and drops his knife and fork as if they’re made of hot coal. “I was saying grace, and you just want to go ahead and eat. No patience,” He scoffs.

“Pardon? Are you not the one that was sticking pieces of fruit in that big mouth of yours like 2 minutes ago?” Louis’ annoyance is starting to course through his veins, and he can feel the tenseness of his shoulders returning.

“It was before I sat down and started to say thank you for the lovely meal that’s been provided. But whatever, keep on eating. The more that’s in your mouth, the less you talk,” Harry’s jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. Louis is completely taken aback now, and it’s left him reeling. He blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining this.

“Maybe you should be the one to go take a hike and get your head in the right place. No fucking wonder you have relationship issues, I’m surprised she hasn’t ran for the hills,” Louis retorts, voice thick with venom. He stuffs another forkful of food into his mouth and he exhales through his nose. He watches amusedly as Harry visibly stiffens as the words hit him. Louis swallows and then reaches for another cocktail and brings it to his smirking mouth.

“Why don’t we talk about our relationships then, mister holier than thou. I’ll tell you all about my life and then I’ll sit here and pretend that I’m caring about yours. Let’s get it out of the way,”

The amount of testosterone that is circling the air around them is overwhelming and there’s a clear battle for dominance and neither is prepared to back down. Louis starts to speed up his drinking at this point because he refuses to be sober to deal with situations like this.

“You go first. Tell me all about your life Prince Harry of England,” Louis fake swoons, resting the back of his hand on his forehead and fans himself with his other hand. Harry’s entire face darkens with pure hatred and Louis tries not to focus on the way Harry’s biceps bulge as he physically tries to stop himself from reaching across and knocking the sarcasm out of Louis.

“Ask away. I couldn’t be assed going through this story again from start to finish. What’s your burning questions?” Harry says in the most defeated whisper which is opposite to what he was just a few seconds away, which causes Louis to stop and do a double-take. Harry starts picking at his food again, and then in the next breath drinks the entire cocktail like it’s nothing. Louis starts to wonder how many Harry’s actually charged through.

“What’s her name, and how long have you been together?”

“Her name is Liv, and we’ve been an item for 2 years. I already know your other half is Eleanor, but how long?” Harry looks unbothered as he leans back into the chair, arms folded across his chest. The reflection of colours from the flames flickers against his skin as he watches Louis closely.

“4 years basically, been together since we were in university. That’s how we met and now we’re here. What’s your issue with Liv?” Louis presses, and he watches as Harry hesitates for a second, eyes focusing hard on the flames and he clenches his jaw. There are deep thoughts occurring and it looks like he’s thinking carefully about his wording. “It’s not that deep, just say the truth. If you’re a fuckwit own up to it. We’re here to fix ourselves and better ourselves. What did you do? Cheat?”

“No. I didn’t do any of that. It’s an extremely long and complicated story that I’d rather not go into detail about. I’m basically here to sort my own head out and maybe even finish some goals that I’ve got before deadlines up,” Harry looks up towards the sky and exhales slowly. Louis’ eyes are focused on the ink on his skin that is displayed as his shirt slightly opens further and he instinctively shifts uncomfortably in his chair and diverts his attention elsewhere. The unfamiliar twitch in his pants causes immediate discomfort and he feels himself suffocating in both shame and arousal.

_You’re sick. You’re sick in the head._

Louis quickly tries to reign himself back in and force his mind out from the haziness of the heat that was rising in the pits of his stomach up towards his chest and face.

“What are your personal goals? Particularly the ones that you’re trying to achieve here? Does this island provide you with something that back home doesn’t?” Louis thinks carefully, then asks away. He realises that Harry’s being bombarded with questions but it’s easier to ask than to be on the receiving end. And Louis will do anything to avoid talking about himself.

Harry gently chews on the plushness of his bottom lip, and eyes remain empty of any emotions. It’s as if he’s staring at a painting straight out from the renaissance; a tragic yet beautiful art piece that no one can decipher but will try and work it out anyway.

“I’m quite certain that you really don’t care for what I do with my life, so why ask?” Harry speaks slowly yet firmly, his porcelain face unmoving and eyes lifting slightly and focusing on Louis. The gaze alone makes Louis want to shrink down into his chair, but he rolls his shoulders and tilts his head.

“If I haven’t packed my bags by the end of the night, I’m assuming we’re going to have to get through whatever the hell the next 3 months is going to be. So may as well start getting a feel for what I’m dealing with,” Louis says matter-of-factly, but in reality, he just wants to know the real depth behind the man of mystery. There must be a life behind those vacant eyes and a blinding smile. What about his life has caused him to be so vicious and withdrawn from his surroundings?

Louis knows he’s starting this never-ending perpetual cycle of psycho-analysing people, both a gift and curse that he can never escape. It is his automatic response, for he must know the ins and outs of the people he surrounds himself by. It is his own version of self-care and it is his way of weeding out the toxic from the genuine.

“This island provides solitude and silence, mostly. Not so silent whenever you decide to talk but that is beside the point. The record label wants me to provide a full demo and they’ll decide whether I’m worth the leap of faith, or not,” Harry breathes out, and then as he nears the end of the sentences he cracks his knuckles in an attempt to cover his anxious movements. A mannerism that Louis has witnessed time and time again in his office; anxious hands that fidget and crack knuckles to blanket the shakes that are beginning. It’s a clear point of tension and it causes Louis’ curiosity to rise even further.

“Record label? So, you _are_ a wannabe celebrity…god, I’m good,” Louis nods approvingly and feels his mouth turn into a wide smile. He notices the way that Harry ever so slightly flinches at his response and immediately tries to cover it by reaching for another cocktail and bringing it up towards his mouth. Louis’ vision focuses on the way the glass shakes in his hands slightly, and Harry takes a long sip from the glass and hesitantly swallows it. “So, you’re a musician? The acoustic guitar makes sense…not to mention the grand piano. It’s all adding up now. Have you written any content for your demo yet?” Louis clears his throat and starts to show genuine interest.

It’s in the way that Harry reacts that leaves a painful pressure in Louis’ chest and he finds his fingers dig slightly into the table. Those empty eyes instantaneously light up and there is a brief moment of both shock and happiness that fills Harry’s expression, mouth slightly agape for a second as he sucks in air.

“No. They wanted one song but I’ve um…sort of set a personal bar. I want to have the whole album done by the time I can return home. I know we don’t necessarily have a recording studio here so I understand I can’t record. But you know… throw my soul into the wind and see where it takes me. I want to have the album completely written, understand the sounds and feeling it has. It’s about the vibes. I want to write from experience…not from what I think something is,” He is cautious in his wording, hesitating after each line. Louis watches as Harry’s long fingers play with his bottom lip while he thinks about his way of explaining, and he focuses on the rings he hasn’t really paid attention to.

One’s a thick silver band with engravings of a logo, no other than the brand that seems to represent him as a person. The same brand that is sitting in the bedroom imprinted on his luggage, and probably on the tags of all his suits. Louis internally scoffs, and eyes roam to the next one. A silver rose, plain and simple. And two thick banded silver rings with what appears to be a giant square-cut ruby in the centre. He’s pulled out of his focus when Harry finishes and starts to ask Louis questions.

The dreaded moment that Louis had been avoiding with his whole soul. The part where Harry was going to bombard him with questions about his failing love-life and Louis was going to look like the most inconceivable trash bag of a human.

“What happened with your relationship with Eleanor? What brought you here?”

“I don’t really know how to answer that without sounding like the biggest douche in the human race,” Louis sighs, wincing at his own thoughts and trying to decipher how to present the entire situation with grace.

“Are you not the one that was just saying if you’re a fuckwit just own up to it. We’re here to work on ourselves and all that. Bit rich that you can’t even speak about it yourself, innit?” Harry laughs again, that honey-velvety noise that instantly makes Louis’ rapid heart rate steady and him to exhale in awe. The rigidness of his shoulders melting away like butter.

“Okay. In the simplest of terms…I did cheat. Before that, we had just completely drifted from one another. We didn’t really act like a couple anymore; I wasn’t really invested as much as I was. I was so focused on my career and she was mostly put on the back burner,” Louis sighs, and Harry’s face darkens, and his eyebrows pull together into a frown and lips puckering into a slight scowl.

“So, you are the jerk of the relationship then,” Harry speaks firmly, all trace of playfulness now long gone. It causes a giant lump in the back of Louis’ throat and he swallows thickly, stuttering trying to get a grip of himself again.

“I don’t condone cheating; in fact, I think it’s the lowest of lows. What I did was completely inexcusable. I had gone for a night out with my best friend, Niall, and we sort of went too hard on the tequila shots. Dangerous move on my behalf, to be completely honest. I was completely inebriated, and I kissed someone. I was honest with Eleanor about it and was in the doghouse for quite some time. We just continuously grew apart, both before and after. Just before I got the confirmation of being accepted into this…I got drunk with Niall again. I did some pretty deplorable things that night…it’s..ugh…” Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a few moments to inhale and exhale slowly and squeezing his eyes shut. There is a wave of nausea that takes over his stomach and causes an anxious sweat to suddenly breakout.

“Deplorable things….being?” Harry presses further and Louis scowls. He doesn’t want to speak about it, especially to this stranger that’s sitting across from him. Except Louis’ own words are being thrown straight back at him. He may as well own up to it.

“After the interview, I just…I just couldn’t go back. Niall, bless his soul, wanted to take the edge off and we decided to have another booze night. We hadn’t had one since the first mistake and well I lost control of myself. A common mistake with alcohol and I’ve learned to keep myself in check…But I was at strip clubs and there was a lot of money spent on private dances, and I did illicit drugs. At the time I was having the time of my life….and then I woke up in a bed with a bunch of strangers and Niall,”

Harry physically halts in the middle of taking another giant swig from his cocktail, and as the words tumble out of Louis’ mouth it sprays out of his mouth and onto the floor. Harry stays completely shell-shocked at Louis’ revelation and he runs a tongue along his bottom lip and frowns.

“You’re telling me…you cheated again? And this time via an orgy? Are you kidding me?” Harry’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets at this point, and there’s a red hot embarrassment that is starting to envelop Louis’ whole existence and the heat that rises towards face makes him increasingly more flustered.

“I didn’t partake in those actions…um…that was Niall’s doing. He’s completely single…I waited outside and kept myself busy with the stash I had purchased earlier that night. I double-checked with Niall and he confirmed I wasn’t apart of the…um…activities. Once they were finished though, I kind of just walked in to make a joke about them and then I think I just kind of collapsed. Niall kind of dragged me into the bed and that’s how I ended up there,” Louis stammers, and he decides that he’s never going to speak of this situation ever again because this is mortifying.

“I refuse to believe for a second you weren’t involved,” Harry shakes his head, completely dismissing Louis’ statement and recount of the situation.

“I double-checked, and the women also confirmed I wasn’t involved. I still hate it. The fact I was still asleep in the bed afterwards…and I still went out and got those dances…It’s a form of cheating and Eleanor hasn’t physically seen me since then. She agreed to come here but I’ve got to do a lot of soul searching to fix whatever we have left,” Louis mumbles, and then he decides he doesn’t want to talk anymore. He grips his cold drink tightly in his hand and throws his head back, drinking the entire drink without stopping.

He doesn’t care for how it will make his head spin, and he doesn’t care that he’ll probably soon be an incomprehensible mess. He just wants to not feel this disgustingly ashamed of himself and his actions. Louis can feel the way Harry’s gaze burns through his skin as if staring into the broken parts of his soul which makes Louis all the more uncomfortable.

“I thought I was the asshole, but I think I might be the angel of the two of us,” Harry’s face slightly twists in disgust, as he mentally recants the idea of Louis’ actions. Louis closes his eyes in shame and slumps back into the chair, and this time he’s mentally weighing up the idea of leaving. He can’t handle this already.

“I think you’re quite mistaken. You’re literally the most pretentious thing I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re a walking Gucci store, like c’mon dude. There’s no need for it,” Louis laughs and rolls his eyes. He has to bite back another laugh as he watches Harry instantly scowl.

“If it makes me happy, then leave it,” Harry shoots back, crossing his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He genuinely looks offended which comes as a surprise, surely, he’s had worse insults thrown his way.

“Between the luggage, the suits and the grand piano…I don’t know how you aren’t. It’s like you’re entirely built from wealth like it’s in your foundations. Clearly…like I said earlier and you basically confirmed…the money is your parents. So why don’t you…try and become more individual? Branch out and just be who you want to be. Not this person who is dressed like an obnoxious snob,” Louis finds his words slurring at an alarming rate, and he’s realising very quickly he really shouldn’t have had so much to drink. And he most definitely shouldn’t have knocked back that last one so fast.

“I might be looking like a snob, but I’m not an arrogant pig that cheats on his girlfriend,” Harry suddenly spits, and it’s enough to give Louis complete whiplash. Louis’ jaw instantly drops and he swears it hits the floor. There’s a loud scraping of Harry’s chair as he pushes himself up, and his figure starts to quickly move towards the door.

“You won’t even admit what you’ve done to yours, buddy,” Louis yells after him, scowling. Harry doesn’t even flinch and Louis watches as his figure steps inside and angrily walks leaves his line of sight as he disappears in the direction of the bedroom.

Louis stays in his seat, completely taken back by the outcome of the situation. The switch in mood had happened so quickly it left Louis both enraged, confused and mostly upset. It was probably his fault because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He does find himself, however, waiting patiently and eyes darting towards the door checking for Harry’s frame to step back into view. And it doesn’t.

So, Louis helps himself to a couple more of the untouched beverages that sit on the table in an attempt to drown out the negative thoughts that swirl around in his head. He isn’t even sure how long he stays seated really, because the concept of time doesn’t exist in this moment. When the idea of how the sunset looked earlier that day crosses his mind, Louis suddenly finds himself standing up. His vision is blurred slightly, and he grips onto the chair to steady himself as the room starts to spin.

“Steady,” He whispers to himself, focusing on the floor carefully until he feels confident enough to let go of the chair.

If Harry had taken the only bed in the house, Louis was going to stay up and witness the sunrise. He wanted to experience the breathtaking beauty of the world’s good morning. So that’s exactly what he does. He forces his heavy limbs back in the direction he had been earlier that day, and the path is lit up with tiki lights, flames flickering lightly with the ocean breeze. It was a refreshing breeze and made Louis realise how much he had been sweating in this shirt and made him alert to how fucking humid it was here.

Louis stumbles, further and further away from the villa. Eyes focused on the shining dark ocean that reflects the full moon perfectly. He somehow manages to sit in the spot he had been at earlier, eyes trained on the vast darkness in his view, yet still completely leaving him in awe. He watches silently as the waves softly crash onto the sand and he listens to the breeze that brings fresh salty air into his lungs.

And that’s when an idea strikes.

Louis Tomlinson was a cautious and calculated man until he became a drunken mess. His ability to assess danger completely goes out of the window, and he believes he’s invincible. So when Louis pulls off his sweat-soaked shirt and places it next to him, he decides he’s going to take a dip into the warm, inviting water. He strips down until he’s in his underwear, and makes sure his clothes are securely placed in the spot he had just been sitting in. He stands up and breathes deeply and smiles to himself before taking a step forward, instantly stumbling over himself.

“Get it together, Tomlinson,” He mutters to himself, eyes trained on the sand in front of him as he tries to steady his balance. His complete and utter focus on not falling flat on his face. And when he finally manages to gather balance enough to walk in a straight line, he confidently makes his way to the waters of the ocean.

As Louis nears the gentle waves that roll in and out, he wonders if the water is cold. He slows himself down a considerable amount and hesitantly steps forward, feet becoming drenched, but he does not mind. The water is cool yet welcoming, a perfect contrast to the thick humid air. Louis reaches down and wets his hands before running them through his hair and smiles to himself. He throws his arms towards the moon and soaks up the pale moonlight. He feels the laughter bubbling in the back of his throat and a few seconds later he’s laughing outwardly.

He doesn’t know exactly what he’s laughing at. Maybe it’s just his way of coping because if he didn’t laugh then he’d probably end up a broken mess. Louis hadn’t cried in years, he just couldn’t allow himself to have moments of downtime. He had felt them enough in his life and now he refuses to accept sadness. He’d do anything to avoid the feeling of emptiness. As he throws his head back and laughs, his knees give out beneath him and he collapses into the warm water. He allows the small waves to wash over him, the cold water enveloping his small body and eyes completely focused on the ball of light above him.

The moon knew. The moon knew how broken he was.

He doesn’t know how long he stays in this position exactly, but he finds the laughter subsiding until there’s that aching emptiness that stays heavy in his chest. His mind and body move quickly before he can start to focus on it, and he starts to swim outwards. The water gently carries him and Louis is completely oblivious to the rip in the current and that the waves were starting to worsen as he drifted closer towards it. He’s unaware until he turns back towards the beach and realises, he might have swum a little too far out and his head is spinning from the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed.

Louis’ panic rises slightly as he attempts to swim closer to the shore, arms and legs aching as he paddles against the strong current. Louis’ heart feels like it’s lodged in the back of his throat and he’s suddenly completely overtaken by terror when he realises, he’s losing the battle and actually going backwards.

He looks to where he’s being pulled to, and has approximately 2 seconds to brace for impact, which proves useless. The monster wave that was a terrifying shade of black washes over him with thunderous volume and Louis finds himself tumbling and then pressed against the sandy floor of the ocean. He was nowhere near strong enough to fight the force of the ocean and in the midst of his panic he accidentally inhales, and that was quite possibly the worst mistake he could have made. 


	7. What Is Going On In This Kids Brain?

Drowning was always depicted as a slow and agonising death. Louis had seen it countless amounts of times on television and in films but there was no way to accurately depict what it felt like when it came to the real-life experience. The sound of roaring water hitting a crescendo as his body is uselessly thrown about with each harsh push from a wave, and his body completely enveloped by the dark indigo body of water. The insurmountable pressure compressed inside his chest, forcing the physiological reaction to gasp for more air to replace the burning fire within. Louis’ heart is hammering loudly against his ribcage but completely drowned out by the deafening relentlessness of the unpredictable forces around him. His heart acting like a bird trapped in a cage, begging to break free from confinement and shattering against the entrapments of his bones. His throat seared in a fiery agony and rising pressure from within his chest making its way upwards.

It’s happening so fast that even with the slight delay in reaction thanks to the level of intoxication Louis’ head is still pounding with an astronomical amount of panic, threatening to combust at any given second. Louis tries to hold in the pressure, already having inhaled a large gulp of the salty water but the pressure takes over. It doesn’t take much more to give in and Louis’ mouth and lungs open desperate for oxygen, but only to become engulfed with another mouthful of water. He could taste the ocean, and he had countless times beforehand. He was used to the feeling of the water not being fresh, used to it being polluted and foul. This water was untouched by the carelessness of human’s and remained fresh. It was a type of fresh that stung more than the pollution left behind from others. If his body wasn’t in desperate need for oxygen and his vision shrinking with every millisecond, the water would have been refreshing. Refreshing if it was not being inhaled.

Louis’ brain finally connects with his weak body, forcing his limbs to start moving and ultimately looking like a ragdoll against the sheer force around him. The fear that entraps him causes his mind to lose focus faster than a child at a candy store. Except in comparison, there is no excitement. No fun. All Louis knows is the fear that pulses through his veins and explodes in every nerve ending. It’s the type of fear that forces his own movements to be stronger and desperate to swim upwards. Although in the surrounding darkness and the absence of sun, he doesn’t know which way is up. Everything above water doesn’t exist when below. There’s no concept of which ways up or down. It’s an endless vortex of death. He knows he needs his movements to be calculated, but his primitive reaction has overcome his logic and he finds himself thrashing.

Louis’ eyes are stinging, and it’s from both the salt concentration of the ocean but also the tears that are escaping his eyes. Tears that don’t even get the blessing of kissing his still-warm skin. Tears that instantly blend in with raging waters. Opening his mouth again, desperate for a cry for help. It was useless. No one was going to hear his pixie voice because there was no one around. The closest person was the arrogant piss-poor excuse of a human in the villa and he had no idea Louis was here in the first place. A string of bubbles escapes his parted lips, despair filling his existence with every struggling gulp as his hands furiously reach for a break in the surface. The temperature of the water is no longer invitingly warm, but instead icy cold. And it’s thrust up his nostrils, leaving a constant stream cascading into the back of his throat and nose. Louis screws his eyes shut as there are jets of pain sent through every portion of his body.

It’s when Louis’ head breaks the surface and his face is suddenly met with clear air that he lets out the loudest gasp of air. Desperate to breathe life back into his body that he starts to feel that he might have a chance. He might have a chance at getting out and surviving this ordeal. The air is warm, thick with the scent of salt and sand. It’s the scent that usually Louis would find comfort in, except now it instils the roughest wave of terror he’s ever felt in his life. Louis’ whole body reacts to the abrupt change from water to air, causing his lungs to constrict and a loud spluttering cough escapes his lips. His body’s natural reaction to eject the water that is filling his lungs and drowning him from the inside out.

“Help!” His voice is barely a squeak between the wet coughs that wrack his body. He’s desperate to keep himself afloat but his vision is blurry, the waves are turning more sinister and he can’t evoke further strength to swim to shore. “Help me!”

Almost as fast as he broke the surface, another wave completely engulfs him and he’s under the current yet again. He still needed air; it wasn’t enough. His body still forcing coughs and in return the water resurging into his airways. Slowly, the commotion and chaotic sounds surrounding him are drowned out into a faint hum, buzzing deep in his ears, and gradually muting into silence. He’s overcome with the sense of hopelessness and ultimately gives up on the tiresome attempts to scream, thrash and fight. He allows the water to take him as her prisoner, his mind accepting that he may very well become another secret that only mother nature knows of. Louis closes his eyes and relishes in the darkness and the silence that now surrounded him. It wasn’t for long because his memory assaults him with quick flashes of everything his life offered him. From the fondest memories of his childhood, teenage years and adulthood to all the way to the darkest of days. There’s so much guilt that overcomes him, the guilt of what he’s going to put everyone through.

God. Eleanor would never emotionally recover.

He loved her, he actually loved her and this was the way he was going to leave her. It wasn’t like it was just a breakup and he was still breathing. That would be easier, knowing the person you loved is still alive but is happy. That’s the conclusion that loved ones deserve, not an ending where your heart can never heal because the love of your life isn’t walking on the earths surface.  
He can imagine it now. He envisions the way her face would falter, and her lips would start to quake as her round eyes filled with tidal waves of tears. Louis can sympathetically feel the way her chest would feel like it’s being constricted and her airways closing as the shock settles deep into her pores and sinks into her blood.

It’s agony, but when Louis thinks of his family it really starts to weigh on him. He can hear the screams of his mother, and the shouts of his sisters. He can feel the way they’re begging for him to come back. He wishes he never came here. It was the worst decision of his life and the biggest regret. It was something that could never be rectified because his soul was now one with nature.

Niall..fuck. What the fuck was he doing to do? It’s completely unfair now and if there was any oxygen left, even a tiny particle floating in his body…it disintegrates. Louis can see the Irishman holed up in his little shoebox apartment, neglecting his life and his work. Drowning himself in the alcohol that both he and Louis once shared. He wants to hold Niall in this exact moment, tell him that it’s going to be okay. Louis wants nothing more than to apologise for every horrible thing that he’s ever said and tell him he’s the best friend he could have ever asked for.

As his vision slowly blurs out and level of reality becomes altered, there’s a calming wave of numb that starts to spread through his chest and extending to his extremities. He stares unblinking at the surface that moves with quick succession, the corners of his vision darkening as his consciousness falters. He passively accepts his fate in the grip of death and waits for her to siphon the last of his tormented soul.

+++

The sound of silence is burst when he can hear shouting, it fades in just like the way things faded out. It’s a desperate yell, and there’s a fierceness behind it that Louis can grasp that it’s enraged. It’s dripping in horror, fear, sadness and…something. He doesn’t know what. The words are incoherent and sound a million lightyears away and Louis desperately wants to reach out towards it but he doesn’t even know what direction it’s coming from. The voice circles the darkness, reverberating and ricocheting in the abyss. It feels like forever has passed as the sounds get louder and closer, close enough that Louis could reach out and hold it in a vice tight grip, but he doesn’t know how to move. The darkness is swallowing him, and he is trapped in eternal blindness.

With the voices also comes a sudden pressure in the centre of his being. It’s moving rhythmically, with precise motion and the shouting, somehow, gets louder. Every sense that had slowly dissipated was slowly returning, and soon enough Louis can feel the wetness that completely encases his body and a freezing breeze. He wants to move, but the weight of his limbs and body weighed more than a boulder. His lungs ached with the burn of a thousand scorching suns and he could feel the searing pain in the back of his throat that radiated up his nose. He wants to open his eyes and force himself to fight against whatever is trying to kill him but it’s as if they’re cemented shut.

He doesn’t even get a moment to recognise the uncomfortable instantaneous churning of his stomach before its contents suddenly lurch upwards. He can feel the hot liquid return up his burning oesophagus and flying up out of his mouth. He feels his body suddenly roughly jerked to the side and then rough wet sand pressing into the side of his face. On cue, the cement that held Louis’ eyes together gives way and they weakly open. There’s nothing that he can recognise, it’s all blurred together. Even the colours mix and appear like a Van Gogh or Picasso artwork. They can’t focus because he’s wincing as his body rejects the water that violated every aspect of his internal organs. Between each heave, he manages to take a deep breath. It lessens the burning for just a fraction of a second before the fluid causes his insides to scream again.

“Louis!” Louis’ ringing ears refocus on the voice that he’d heard shouting just a few seconds, or minutes prior. “Louis?” It’s softer the second time it repeats his name, and Louis’ eyes instinctively move towards it.

The colours fade in and out, and his vision continues to blur but he can make out that someone is kneeling over him. Louis slowly blinks, coughing furiously trying to catch his breath. The burning of his eyes is overwhelming, but he keeps blinking until he can get a clearer vision. It doesn’t take long to going back to wishing he was back in the darkness and blissfully unaware of his actual surroundings because the second he has a clear view, he’s focusing on wide jaded green eyes and a very wet curly-haired man.

_Harry._

Harry’s visibly shaken, his face flushed a ruby red and damp curls clinging to the equally flushed skin of his neck. Harry’s shoulders rise and fall dramatically as if he’s trying to catch a breath himself and his eyes don’t relax as they dart all over Louis’ face. Louis stares in complete silence, airways desperate for oxygen and his brain completely focused on relishing in the return of air supply. Harry looks as if he’s carved out of the marble, like the statues that represent those Greek Gods. In fact, maybe he is a Greek God. It would all make sense. Louis feels the gentle trickle of water continuing to slowly fall out of his mouth and pool underneath his face, but quickly being soaked up by the already damp sand.

“You’re breathing. You’re breathing,” Harry repeats to himself, eyes slowly scanning Louis’ face and then watching the quick rise and fall of Louis’ chest as his oxygen yearning body works in overdrive. “What the fuck was that?”

Louis swallows and immediately winces at the pain and tries to speak, but his voice is a whisper and his head spins. He doesn’t the energy and his body isn’t functioning.

“Sorry,” Is what he manages to muster out, coughing again and spitting out more water. He turns his head and closes his eyes, focusing on the crisp air that is breathing life back into his soul. 

“You idiot! You…You could’ve died. I noticed you were gone and thought you’d be down here and I just had a feeling you’d be a total idiot while drunk. Do you know how fucking tiring it is trying to haul deadweight out?” Harry huffs, and Louis doesn’t even bother opening his eyes to stare at his reaction. He can already imagine it.

“I’ve known you for like 12 hours and have already performed CPR on you. What kind of shit is this Louis?”

_CPR._

Louis opens his eyes slightly and the first emotion that overcomes him is mortification. He stares at Harry, body screaming at him to say something. His brain starts to send signals back to his voice box in electric pulses and Louis speaks again. Just as soft, and very slow. But it’s the best he can do.

“CPR?”

“Why else was I forcing my weight on your chest Louis? This isn’t exactly one of my kinks,” Harry shoots back, eyebrows knitting together in an annoyed frown. Louis notes the way his body tenses up as he clenches his jaw and looks away shaking his head.

“And no. I didn’t give you mouth to mouth either. Don’t look so mortified,”

“Wasn’t…I wasn’t mortified,” Louis manages to force out more than one word. It’s getting a little easier now and he rolls onto his back and stares at the infinite stars. He always wondered if he died if he’d become a star, but he’d seen the other side. There was nothing. No glorification or romanticising it. It was death. Nothing.

“Your whole face drained of colour,”

“Was I not…just...never mind,” Louis sighs, the tiredness had crept up but one he recognised it, it was completely overcoming him. His eyes flutter closed for a second and he feels Harry’s fingers suddenly pressed against the side of his neck.

“Alive,” Louis says flatly, eyes remaining closed.

“Just reassuring. I can’t be too sure with the way you’re looking,” Harry’s voice is soft, any sign of anger has completely vanished and replaced with gentle playfulness. “Which by the way, is not good. You look like death,”

_What is going on in this kid’s brain?_

“How about you take a dip into that water and experience it for yourself. I’d like to see how you come out looking,” It’s the first full sentence that Louis speaks out, still slow, but just as sassy. It’s the most positive sign that he isn’t dying.

“Not even death can take that mouth off you,”

A ghost of a smile appears on Louis’ purple lips, although the colour was slowly returning with each passing moment. Harry watches intently as the very corners of his lips tilt up, which in return causes a wave of relief to overcome him. Louis doesn’t respond straight away, but rather focus on taking deep breaths to try and regulate his heart that is beating erratically again. The sound of blood pulsing in his ears is enough for him to notice he needs to calm down and keep himself in check. He also attempts to form another sentence to shoot back at Harry. It takes a few attempts to get the words out, but eventually manages to speak again.

“Not even in the afterlife would you catch me without my sass. It isn’t just in my DNA, it’s my soul,” Louis breathes, smiling to himself. There must be some type of humour or else he might actually cry. There’s already the feeling of tears burning the very edges of his eyes and he doesn’t want to appear a fool in front of this man. No more of a fool than he already is.

“What were you thinking?” Harry presses again, and it’s clear he isn’t going to let this go. “How dumb do you have to be to make a decision like that?”

“Fresh air. Escape. Thought it would be calming,” Louis speaks in a broken sentence again. Talking is appearing to take too much of a toll on his body. It’s a waste of the oxygen he so desperately was trying to gain.

“I don’t understand how any of what just happened might be calming for you. It was anything but calm for me. In fact, that was traumatising. For a whole minute, I genuinely thought you had offed yourself for good,”

“Sorry,” Louis’ fingers press into the sand, focusing on the way it felt against his skin. Desperate to ground himself back into reality because his vision was still weak and he felt like slipping under again. Tiny granules pressed against his nerve endings and he sighs. “I felt calm in the end,”

Louis knows that Harry’s exasperated and unable to form a functional thought, and also preparing for the onslaught of absolute rage that going to be hurled his way but he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it. He’s tired and his body is desperate to pull him back under.

“What did you…What was it like?” Harry asks with genuine curiosity; his mind is still scrambling to make sense. It had all happened so fast and now everything has slowed into real-time and he’s half sure it’s just his brains way of coping.

“You’re meaning to ask what I felt and witnessed in those moments?” Louis asks raising an eyebrow and when he hears Harry hum back in response, he really considers how he’ll explain it. Louis exhales and looks towards the sky, silently reliving those final terrifying moments before he was back in his own body feeling like he’d taken on a Mack truck headfirst.

“Nothing. There is absolute nothingness. Flashes of life as I knew it. Thoughts of what my loved ones would experience and then…just absolute silence,”

“Weird.”

When Louis’ body violently shivers as there’s a blast of ocean breeze that brushes against his wet body, Harry shifts closer. Louis’ eyes barely have time to register that Harry’s suddenly hauling him upwards, large hands gripping his bicep and holding him up straight. Louis’ legs remain completely numb, so he wobbles for a second. His body slackens against Harry because there’s no way in hell he’s prepared to stand. He can barely speak even when laying.

“Warmth. It’s necessary right now,” Harry doesn’t say much else as he focuses intently on making sure Louis finds his feet and steps forward. Louis feels embarrassed when he stumbles, and Harry’s fingers dig into his skin. And then he’s suddenly hyper-aware of the fact he’s down to his briefs, completely exposed and soaking wet. His whole body locks up and heels dig into the salt to completely halt their movement. Harry snaps his head back at Louis, eyes filled with sudden alarm.

“You alright?”

“Naked. I’m naked,” Louis mutters, slowly looking down at himself in disgust. His vision is greeted by an in-fact naked torso and soaking underwear clinging tightly to his bottom half and leaving his exposed legs. He scrunches his nose and a low whine escapes his mouth as he mentally prays to turn into a sims character and clothes to suddenly appear on his whole body.

“You’re in underwear, not naked,” Harry blinks, voice blank of emotion. His eyes don’t even leave Louis’ face. Louis’ sure he probably already looked over his body when he wasn’t fully aware of it.

“I feel naked. Look away,”

“Well if we could just walk to the villa, you could probably dress yourself.” Harry starts slowly, coaching Louis into moving again. “It starts with you using your legs,”

Louis looks up from the beach and towards the direction of the villa. His body still aching, chest burning and energy completely drained. And also, in the forefront of his brain, the memory of the clothes he had changed out of earlier is folded just up ahead.

“My clothes…they’re just over there. Can you?” Louis squints and focuses on the outline of the fabric ahead, and aggressively waves Harry towards it. Harry looks between the clothes and Louis, eyeballing Louis as if he’s insane. “I want my dignity,”

“Are you aware that I’m also half-naked? We both don’t really have dignity,”

Louis doesn’t know how to respond, so he shuts his mouth. But he does insist on aggressively pointing in the direction of his clothes and when Harry rolls his eyes and makes his way over then Louis can breathe again. He hadn’t even for a second noticed Harry being undressed, so he uses the time he has to scan over Harry. While he’s unsuspecting. His shirtless torso is littered with black ink, all separate and random images which Louis is curious to know about. He’ll ask eventually, maybe. If they ever stop bickering. He’s still wearing pants though, so his argument about also not having dignity is invalid but Louis will keep that comment to himself. He’s too tired to continue with his shenanigans, so instead lets his mind drift off and focuses on taking deep breaths of the air so it reaches the deepest parts of his lungs. He still has the shakes and his body has never felt this weak.

His moment of solitude ends when his clothes hit him smack bang in the face and Louis doesn’t say a word as he quickly slides them over his exposed body. He tries his best to make it quick, but the slightest action is enough to leave him completely breathless and needing a whole minute to recover. He makes it no more than 5 meters shakily walking next to Harry before he suddenly picks him up without a word and starts carrying him bridal style.

_Embarrassment. Searing red hot embarrassment._

“I can walk just fine,” Louis weakly tries to detach himself from Harry’s warmth, ignoring the feeling of Harry’s actual chest and actual skin against him. It leaves an uncomfortable swirl of emotions in his stomach. “Just fine!” He says it louder, in case he didn’t hear the first time.

“Not fine at all. Even the elderly in the aged care facilities with their wheelie walkers have better walking capacity than you right now. Louis, you can’t even say a full sentence right now without having to stop and catch your breath. This stupid experiment would be over before we even get in the house.” Harry bites down on his bottom lip suppressing a smile, and Louis pretends not to notice the giant crater of a dimple that appears in his cheeks. Louis looks straight ahead, eyes focused on anything but Harry.

“You don’t have to pretend to be my friend, for the sake of it,” Louis speaks again, and it’s the words that takes Harry completely off guard. He falters for a second until he continues with his stride and eyes suddenly looking a little lost as he tries to gather his thoughts.

“I never said we were friends. I just felt like it’s not fair to your girlfriend and your family and whoever else matters to just let you die,”  
“Do they really deserve such an arrogant pig that cheats?” Louis decides to use Harry’s own words against him, and it’s apparent that Harry recoils at the words and shakes his head slightly.

“I say things when I’m angry. You attacked and I gave it back. You might be an asshole and I might not care about you. But I care about the others that might be greatly affected by you suddenly just offing yourself because of drunken mistakes,”

_Ah. Yeah. Alcohol._

“Not my best trait,” Louis mumbles.

“You don’t say. I’m banning you from large quantities of alcohol. And also swimming alone. Both of those aren’t a thing that happens here. Go ahead and sit on the beach and think about your life or whatever. But don’t go try and kill yourself over it. You have family,”

“I wasn’t trying to-,”

“Don’t want to hear it. No justification for it, to be honest,”

It feels like an eternity has passed before Harry steps into the welcoming warmth of the villa, except the lights make Louis’ eyes sting so he’s left squinting. Harry hasn’t so much as shown a sign of weakness while carrying Louis up the hill that entire time and Louis is starting to think the whole ‘being a god’ is actually a theory to consider. He places Louis gently on the floor next to the shower and turns the heat up. He throws weary glances every now and then in Louis’ direction and attempts to make them subtle; it was anything but.

“Uh, how’s the breathing? Are you good? Can you take full deep breaths?” He starts shooting off a million questions, as his fingers are placed under the constant stream to ensure the right temperature.

“It’s um…difficult. Getting easier, I suppose. Feels more the aftermath of an asthma attack if you even understand what that feels like,” Louis shrugs.

Harry’s eyes brighten for a moment and he turns towards Louis with a newfound look of both realisation and surprise and Louis is more concerned to witness this strange behaviour.

“I have a Ventolin?” Harry offers but Louis shakes his head. “I’m asthmatic so yeah, I understand. The water is warm enough,” Harry takes a cautious step back and starts to exit. He looks over his shoulder, his brunette ringlets bouncing slightly with each minuscule movement. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Should be. If the shower is still running in 15...knock on the door. If I don’t respond, safe to assume I’ve passed away,” Louis softly laughs and then laughs harder at the way Harry’s features twist into an unimpressed scowl.

“I don’t even find that remotely funny. Don’t be an idiot,”

And then all the playfulness that Harry had been radiating is sucked straight out of the room and into the abyss; leaving Louis feeling drained, exhausted, and struggling to keep himself together. A few minutes pass and Louis crawls into the bottom of the shower, allowing the warmth to envelop and reinvigorate his cold skin. The tightness in his chest, however, doesn’t ease and Louis starts to wonder if it’s going to get better. He turns his head as the bathroom door opens and Harry’s head pop’s around the door's edge, eyes instantly moving to find Louis slumped against the shower wall.  
Louis doesn’t even get the chance to blink before Harry’s back in the bathroom and the shower door is opened. Louis looks down towards Harry’s outstretched hand and his eyes fall on the Ventolin puffer that he had rejected.

“I don’t care. Just take it.”

“I don’t need it,” Louis attempts to fight back but he just can’t. Harry switches off the water and brings the puffer to Louis’ now pinkened lips. A much better improvement than the original lifeless blue back on the beach.

The puffer stays pressed against Louis’ lips and it’s at the point Louis opens his mouth slightly and allows it to be placed correctly. Harry counts down slowly and presses down to administer and Louis follows his instructions. The whole time neither of them break eye contact, not even once.

Stern cerulean meets challenging clover.


	8. Trendiest Food Of All Time

Louis spent the majority of his night tossing and turning, unable to find a comfortable position. There was a lingering haze of fatigue that sat in the back of his mind but too far out of reach, floating amongst the overwhelming emotions of stress. The night was filled with an icy discomfort that blossomed in his chest and made it difficult to breathe. Louis knew his anxiety well enough to understand he was battling the waves of a constant panic attack and trying his hardest to get a grip on it and ease it. He spent hours trying to let himself fall into a slumber, taking deep breaths but too many found themselves lodged in his throat and unable to make the full distance. It was like the icy wind had managed to freeze solid and block his airways. He knew it was going to be a long night, but eventually, the haze overtook the distress and Louis’ heavy eyelids closed peacefully.

It hadn’t been more than 3 hours when the sun started to rise along the shorefront. It filled the sky with shades of orange and pink; peach and magenta, amber and rose. It radiated hope and promised a new beginning. Another chance to live. The start of a brand new day. It’s when the creatures of the island stirred to life and the birds began their harmonious chirping that Louis stirs to life. Upon waking, he burrows himself into the warm, silk sheets. His hands curl into lazy fists as he rubs the remainders of sleep from his eyes and blinks slowly until his vision refocuses. His eyes move towards the partially opened curtains, and he gazes out at the horizon; it’s vivid light extending across the rosy sky. Although under the warm embrace of the rising sun; it’s a grim reminder that Louis might not have experienced this today. Louis feels the fatigue gradually seep out of his pores as the rays trickled in to replace his unrest- the golden shine relaxing his stiff and aching body. Louis’ head relaxes back on the pillow and he exhales, his body desperate to go back to slip but his mind already whirring back to life for the day.

The internal battle between forcing more sleep and waking up wages on until the daylight takes over the drowsiness and there was next to no changes of Louis drifting back into his slumber. With a muted huff, he rips the comfort of the warm sheets off and forces his stiffened body to move. The first sensation is the coolness of the floorboards under his bare feet; it’s enough to shock his nerve endings awake and without a second thought he moves towards the curtains. They add an orange glow to the morning light. It reminds Louis of the times he’d sat with his friends after high school graduation, drinking themselves silly and basking in the rising sun on the beachfront at home. For a brief second his mind conjured rhythmic waves, gentle on the sandy shore. It usually would cause his heart to move in sync with the peaceful waves but instead his heart races with a newfound terror.

Louis does his best to break the cycle, taking a deep breath and relishing in the fact it hits the deepest parts of his lungs again. Something that he would never take for granted, ever again. The new day had begun. He reaches his hand out towards the fabric of the curtains, noting how up close the light pours through every open space between the fibre. The material, although somewhat rougher than expected, is warm beneath his touch. Louis carefully pulls them apart further, allowing the sun to flood the room, painting it new colours and accepting those rays of light to soak into his skin again.

He spends a laughable amount of time basking under the warm summer glow, peacefully and gratefully accepting his second chance at life. There was one thing that Louis could take away from that whole ordeal, and that was to become a better person. A better boyfriend for the woman that he’d neglected and a better person for not only himself but his friends and family. And once his limbs are invigorated by the warmth of the sun, he peels away from the window frame and walks to the foot of his bed. He reaches for the shirt that he had placed the night before and swiftly pulls it over his head.

He moves with ease and makes his way towards the kitchen. Before he can tackle the day, he needs to deal with the sickly feeling of hunger that twists in his stomach. It leaves a hollow feeling that is almost nauseating, and his insides cry out with loud growls and gurgles. The kitchen isn’t far from his room, however, and within less than a minute he finds himself standing in front of the fridge. He eyeballs the ingredients and tosses between bacon and eggs or making pancakes. He ponders for a moment and decides on the latter but the very first and most crucial thing is coffee. He needs caffeine immediately, every fibre in his being craves it.

So, he does exactly that whilst simultaneously preparing breakfast. It isn’t long before he presses the mug to his lips, and lets the bitter warmth fill his mouth and warm his insides. It’s a weird sensation feeling the liquid hit his empty stomach, and he can feel it immediately sloshing around. A definite sign he needs actual food in there. However, something else catches his gaze before he can turn his attention to mixing ingredients together. Louis’ eyes focus on the ridiculous image on the other side of the glass pane and he does a doubletake to make sure he’s not imagining it.

But sure enough, he isn’t. The pale figure that is enveloped wholly by the warm embrace of the sun, golden hue to his skin. His unsuspecting and blissfully unaware body snoozing in the hammock that gently rocked in the breeze. His chocolate curls brushed across his forehead and limply resting against his relaxed shoulders. Louis’ eyes are assaulted by fluorescent yellow board shorts. He decides right now that this colour might be his least favourite of all time. Harry’s tanned skin is partially covered by a plain white t-shirt, and Louis is silently thankful that he has some type of fabric to keep his body warm. Louis notes the lines of care and toil that usually plagued Harry’s face are now smoothed, and the crow’s feet in the corner of his eyes now but a distant memory. His eyelids are closed against the dim light of dawn, his breathing slow and deep, all his muscles in both his face and body totally at peace. There wasn’t a twitch, nor a spasm to be found. Just the barely noticeable rise and fall of his shoulders and chest when Louis focused hard enough.

Louis can’t help but stare in disbelief, because even though Harry had mentioned sleeping on the hammock the day before, Louis hadn’t taken much notice of it. He didn’t think the man was being serious but yet here was. In the throws of a beautiful slumber and glowing in the ambience of sunrise. Louis blinks twice and considers sliding the window open and yelling something smart to startle him awake but he decides against it.

He doesn’t give it a second thought as his stomachs gurgling breaks his train of thought, and he diverts his attention back to his unmade breakfast. He tries his best to make it edible, but God knows this man was useless at cooking. All his previous cooking experiences had gone south so he hadn’t attempted a proper meal since university. Eleanor handled all that. The thought leaves a pang of guilt in his chest and he notes that’s another thing to fix. Cook more.

His first attempt of pancakes goes horrendously and because he’s so fucking hungry, he slowly chews the burnt, rubbery texture of the pancakes. They are quite possibly the worst quality pancakes he’s ever tried in his life and he also decides he’s never making them again. He’d rather just drink his coffee and attempt bacon and eggs. Surely they’re not nearly as difficult? As he hunches over the bench, mindlessly staring into the abyss and disassociating from the revolting taste in his mouth he hears the door to outside slide open. He doesn’t get a chance to react, because instantly the sleep-heavy voice of Harry fills his ears.

“Smells like half the house burnt down,” Harry’s voice is several octaves lower than usual, almost like a grunt. It’s slower than his usual slowed speech. He’s still half asleep and Louis’ head snaps towards him. Harry’s face is emotionless as he takes a few uneven steps towards the kitchen, nose scrunched and eyes puffy from the remnants of sleep. “You’re no good at cooking?” He asks, emerald eyes flickering in Louis’ direction briefly before focusing back on the fridge as he walks towards it.

Louis swallows the last of the pancake in his mouth and swallows, his face slightly distorting in disgust but he tries to cover it straight away. “I’m no chef, that’s for sure,” and then he drowns out the burnt aftertaste with bitter-sweet coffee.

“That’s quite apparent,” Harry mumbles as he looks in the fridge, eyes landing on the jug of orange juice and he starts to mindlessly drink from it. Louis’ face falls and frowns in disgust as Harry sleepily places it back inside and closes the door.

“You can’t just- That’s so disgusting. Pour a glass next time. There are other people in this house,” Louis stammers, staring at Harry like he’s committed a crime. Which drinking straight out of jugs/bottles is. “And I’d like to see you do better,”

Harry’s dark eyebrows shoot upwards, and Louis can see the glint of playfulness inside the green irises. He watches as Harry gently bites down on the pillowy pink softness of his bottom lip and tilts his head in thought, eyes squinting slightly. The amount of confidence this man exuberates it’s offensive.

“Are you challenging me?” Harry asks, the corners of his lips up turning into a playful grin and the crater-sized dimples appear. Louis doesn’t respond, instead he just drinks more of his coffee. “I’ll have you know that I thoroughly enjoy cooking. And I could make pancakes in my sleep, and they’d come out fluffier and less…charred than yours,” Harry looks at the plate in front of Louis, eyeballing the blackened remnants of his breakfast and then back at the paling Louis.

“Is there a single thing you can’t do then? I’m assuming you can sing well since you’re an aspiring musician. You probably write your own music too. You swim in dangerous tides and bring people back to life, and you also happen to cook food without giving yourself or others food poisoning…so what is it that you can’t do Harry Styles?” Louis mutters loudly, pushing himself backwards and the chair scrapes loudly against the floor. He finds his feet and takes the plate towards the sink. Louis doesn’t even bother looking at Harry as he steps past and focuses on scraping the remainder of his unfinished breakfast into the bin and drops it into the sink. “I don’t suppose you wash dishes too?”

Harry appears more awake now, those little lines of life have crept back onto his face. Lips more flushed and cheeks looking a little rosier as his heart pumps blood at a faster volume than while he was asleep. Louis starts to turn the tap on, but he feels Harry’s presence at his side, and the warmth of his body completely invades his personal space. Louis doesn’t even have to think for a millisecond because his body instinctively moves a foot away from him until the warmth dissipates.

“I suppose I do. But I’ll make myself breakfast before I clean. Would you like proper sustenance to start your day? I’m certain that burnt cardboard isn’t good for your body,” Harry absentmindedly starts to grab his own ingredients for breakfast. Louis turns slightly so instead of his hip pressing against the counter, it’s now his back. He watches as Harry moves smoothly from the fridge to the cupboard and back to the empty bench.

“It wasn’t burnt cardboard,” Louis says flatly, and Harry shrugs. “It was pancakes,”.

“It was an attempt of pancakes, but you didn’t quite get there. Nice try though. Do you want actual food or not?” Harry shakes his head before brushing the hair out of his face. He looks over his shoulder in the direction of Louis who scowls back. It’s amusing and Harry smirks back at him.

“Depends, Mr Vegetarian. Or Vegan. Whatever you are…What are you making?” Louis stares at the avocado that Harry places to the side. The green texture of the avocado is enough to make his skin crawl. He hates avocados, with absolute hatred. Before Harry can even respond Louis immediately cuts him off.

“Avocado?!” Louis hollers, skin-crawling and he dramatically gags. He starts to walk away but he catches Harry’s shocked face as he turns slowly in Louis’ direction. It’s amusing the way his brows slightly furrow, and lips pucker in an almost pout.

“What’s wrong with avocado?” Harry asks, and there’s way too much innocence in the way he speaks. Louis wants to smack some sense into him. Of course, this kid likes avocado, he’s a pretty little rich kid. It’s their staple.

“Oh, you know. They’re the trendiest food of all time. If I have an avocado and tag it in my pictures on Instagram, you know what I mean, obviously, I’m a boyo. They do piss me off…” Louis can’t help this rant, it’s like an instantaneous reaction to whenever someone questions his bizarre deep-seated hatred for the fruit. Yes. Avocado is a fruit. Which adds to Louis’ hatred because it shouldn’t be a fucking fruit.

“Why?” Harry asks slowly, and he looks like he’s seconds away from either laughing or crying and Louis isn’t sure what it is. But he does look mightily offended either way.

“It’s like…one minute you go to L.A. and you see people and they’ve got fucking avocado on toast,” Louis eyes narrow at the green devil that sits on the bench to Harry’s right and then he goes back to focus his attention on Harry. Who looks back at the avocado with surprise and then back at Louis, this time he’s actively trying not to laugh but is losing the battle. “What even is the hype about? They’re mushy and bland and….ugh. Not in my lifetime,” Louis upturns his nose, grimacing.

Harry laughs, and it’s a genuine laugh that comes out with ease and filled with warmth and honey. It’s like an automatic cure for any negative feelings that raid Louis’ body.

“You’re insane, you know that right? Hear me out…I’ll make breakfast and you’ll eat it. If you don’t like it, I won’t make extra for you next time. You can keep eating your sorry excuse of nutrition,” Harry raises an eyebrow, still chuckling to himself as his body twists back towards the food on the bench.

“Once. This is my thanks for saving my life but you’re also simultaneously trying to end it by feeding me this tasteless mush,” Louis mumbles, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. Harry doesn’t say another word and he focuses back on his preparation. He moves with absolute ease; each movement is as smooth as the other. Slow and calculated, just like the way he speaks. Louis genuinely wonders what goes through his head and how it works. He’s sure he’ll find out soon enough.

Louis uses the lack of conversation as the chance to quickly slip away and make his way back to the room. He wasn’t exactly prepared to converse with Harry this early in the morning. If he had known Harry was an early riser, he would have had the decency to brush his teeth and hair, instead of looking like a fur ball a cat has hacked up. He stretches awkwardly for a few moments and breathes out the awkward tension that plagues his existence again and then makes his way back towards the bathroom. He procrastinates to the extremes, dawdling with every movement to waste time. He brushes teeth twice as slowly than usual, then takes time to use mouthwash and then follow up with flossing. Although he would have been better doing it AFTER breakfast, maybe he’ll do it all over again.

He also uses his moments of peace to empty his bursting bladder. He hadn’t even given it a thought until he was brushing his teeth and his brain became alarmingly aware of the increased pressure. Afterwards, he stares at his reflection in the large vanity, carefully taking note of his own appearance. His skin had a warm glow to it, and he put that down to his usual love for sun all these years. Strands of his bronzed fringe flop limply onto his forehead, brushing his eyebrows. His eyes appear a little sunken, but he puts that down to the outrageous circles that lay under his eye sockets. They’re puffy, and a hellish bluey-grey; easily aging him by a few years. 

Unfortunately for him, his genetics blessed (not really) him with these bags, but he was usually pretty good at having adequate rest and not worsening them. But after his complete restless night and the way exhaustion has settled into every corner of his body, it was inevitable today he’d look like the embodiment of death. Louis’ usual blue of Louis’ iris appears duller right now, like how the ocean looks on an overcast day. Louis’ eyes fixate on the way his chest slowly rises and falls and his mind can’t help but think that just the night before it wasn’t working that way. It’s unnerving and he doesn’t know how to handle it but before the anxiety trickles in, he turns the tap on and splashes his face with warm water. It’s enough to wake his tired face. He hums to himself, blinking away the droplets that cling to his lashes. After a careful second glance at the imperfections of his face and fluffing his hair until it sat decently, he emerges from his room and moves back towards the kitchen. Before his eyes land on Harry, his nostrils are filled with the scent of toast. That and a slight tinge of burnt pancakes but Louis pushes that thought aside. The second thing that decides to intrude, is the sound of Harry humming to himself.

Louis’ whole body locks up in mid-step in the hallway, feet planting flat into the floorboards and hearing instantly honing in on the sound. It’s soft, gentle and melodic. He stays frozen in the comfort of the hallway for a few moments, gathering his thoughts and sanity before he quietly clears his throat and forces his body to move again. When he steps out into the open area of the kitchen, he notices in his peripherals Harry’s head snap towards him. He feels Harry’s gaze on him, but it’s only for half a second as he focuses his attention back on the food.

Harry’s basically finished now and Louis watches as he places a poached egg on one of the plates. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted eggs or not, you disappeared before I could ask,” Harry says slowly, eyes looking at Louis questioningly. “I only made the one for myself,”

“It’s fine, I don’t really eat too much in the morning anyway. I’m a coffee in the morning type of guy myself,” Louis forces a thankful smile, leaning into the bench and dragging the plate of avocado toast towards himself. “Coffee in the morning, and tea before bed. It’s a simple life,”

“Tea before bed? Like chamomile tea?” Harry instantly asks, and then bites down into his toast. Louis looks down at his own plate and is greeted by the lightly toasted wholemeal bread, smothered in smashed avocado and feta. Louis starts to feel increasingly more ticked off at this man’s abilities.

“Uh, I wouldn’t say chamomile. I’ve had it before and I’m not exactly opposed to it but it isn’t my top preference,” Louis brings the food up to his mouth, and hesitantly takes a bite. His taste buds are assaulted by the familiar mush of the atrocity of avocado, but the taste is better than what he’s had previously. It must be the feta, surely. He chews the small bite quickly and forces a swallow. “I just have like a normal cuppa with milk. It helps me sleep easier,”

Harry continues chewing on his food, deep in thought. His gaze is heavy on Louis, eyes flickering all over Louis’ face. It’s almost like he’s waiting for Louis to be openly disgusted by his idea of breakfast. “So that explains why you have the worst eye bags I’ve ever seen in my life,”

The response was completely unexpected, and Louis actually inhales his mouthful of bread. He coughs, eyes watering and peristalsis inside of his oesophagus occurs overtime to dislodge it.

“How dare you,” Cough. “Point out,” Cough. “My shit genetics,” Cough.

Louis blinks through the thin layers of tears as he feels the chunk become dislodged and move in the correct way. His eyes narrow at Harry, who’s now silently laughing at himself and eating his breakfast in an enthused manner. He clears his throat, gently coughing until the urge passes.

“I only said it like that because you didn’t have tea before going to sleep last night. Well not that I witnessed. You wouldn’t let me hover and check-in on you,” Harry shrugs and then starts to pick at the egg he’d poached for himself. He brings part of it into his mouth and chews achingly slow.

“Because I didn’t need to be babied, to be honest,” Louis interjects, his irritation rising and very quickly. It’s too early for this. He wants to go back into the silent paradise of his bed, surrounded by smooth silk and in a world where Harry doesn’t exist.

“It wasn’t babying. I was making sure you weren’t you know…checking out,” Harry waves his fork around, trying to show the hand signal appropriate for death. What even is an appropriate hand signal? There is none.

“You left me in the shower for not even 3 minutes. I said give me more time than that,” Louis quips, aggressively chewing more of his breakfast. “I appreciate the offer of the Ventolin. It helped. But I drew the line of you hovering while I went to bed,”

“But you didn’t go to bed, clearly. You didn’t have the tea Louis,” Harry replies back, in a matter-of-fact but sarcastic way. Louis thickly swallows the last of the food, jaw clenching and scowling angrily.

“Where do you get off?” Louis groans, pulling away from the bench and dumping the plate in the sink. He brushes his feathery fringe out of his eyes and huffs to himself.

“I usually get off in my room, but I don’t have one here. So I’ll have to-,” Louis cannot believe the disgusting words that are leaving this man’s mouth. It’s not like they’re best friends because then he could handle that. Niall speaks this type of shit all the time. It’s the way they banter but certainly NOT with Harry. No.

His irritation had now evolved into an avalanche of anger. It’s like an impossible build-up of steam, burning Louis from the pits of his stomach and expanding upwards until his whole face burns and there’s only one way out. His mouth opens before he can stop himself.

“Would you just shut up!?” Louis snaps, throwing his hands up. Harry continues laughing to himself, completely unbothered by the interaction. It’s like it’s his goal in life to absolutely infuriate Louis to no end. “It’s not appropriate to say things like that. We’re complete strangers. I don’t know a single fuckin’ thing about you and you don’t know anything about me. I’m- I’m not comfortable with those types of things being said. Not now, not ever,”

“Not ever,” Harry replies, still a ghost of that stupid grin playing on the corners of his upturned lips. Louis’ hands clench into tight fists and he desperately wants to knock it off his face. “Noted. Did you at least enjoy the breakfast that I worked oh so hard on? A thank you would suffice rather than hurling abuse at me for just trying to break the ice,”

“Because mashing up an avocado and placing onto bread is just so fucking tiring,” Louis dramatically yawns and fans himself like he’s just run a marathon. He doesn’t even watch as Harry’s face completely falls flat, eyes darkening and angular jaw jutting in rage. “It’s what regular people make daily, don’t think of yourself so highly,”.

There’s a horrendously loud shatter that breaks Louis’ train of thoughts and causes his body to jolt in shock. The volume of it causes it to echo around the room, and mostly reverberate inside Louis’ ear canal. Louis’ eyes widen as they flicker between the shattered plate on the kitchen floor, and Harry who’s absolutely, and positively wild with rage. His shoulders are squared, rising and falling fast and Louis is certain there’s steam flying out of his ears. Like one of those cartoon depictions of a raging bull. And Louis is waving the red flag.

Louis’ lips part and his jaw drops, words unable to form. Harry doesn’t break the eye contact at this point and his body doesn’t move besides his fastened breathing. Louis stammers for a few moments, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water. He really has anger issues…like…that’s abusive. And yeah Louis was being an utter jerk and probably being completely unreasonable with his responses but hurling household items around isn’t the way to go about it. He’d had enough abuse in his life and he’s not about to deal with it now. But before he can come back with a remark, Harry speaks again.

“I’ve decided you can clean up after breakfast. We’re supposed to be doing a partnered yoga session this morning, but I’m going to go ahead and start without you while you clean up. Least you can do after I tried to do you a kindness. Won’t happen again. Prick,”

Yoga? That’s the first Louis’ ever heard of doing yoga. His brain replays Harry’s sentence and the word partnered strikes him like a red hot iron and he flinches back to life. He doesn’t even focus on the nastiness of Harry’s response. Harry’s already storming away, eyes focusing on trying to locate his stupid luggage.

“How do you know we’re supposed to be doing yoga? No one told me this,” Louis shouts after him, frozen on the spot of the kitchen tiles. Harry doesn’t even look back in his direction again.

“While you were doing whatever you were doing while I was cooking, an envelope was delivered. I had a quick read and it’s one of our first activities. Something about bounding and finding a spiritual awakening and our inner peace. And I need to be as far away from your intolerable presence for as long as I can right now, so I’m going to get myself ready and going to get started. Zen the fuck out before I have to listen to you drone on any further,”

Louis recoils at the way Harry spits his words and it leaves a painful sharp stab that radiates through his being. He looks back towards the bench and notices dark green enveloped sits to the side. How hadn’t he seen that earlier? He steps around the shards of the china white plate that are shattered everywhere, a complete health and safety risk. He can’t open it fast enough; his hands shake as his eyes fall on the cursive writing in the centre of the note.

Harry & Louis

Welcome to Paradise Island. I hope your first night was filled with curious questions and settling into your new home. It’s essential to be open to changes in your lives, reflect on yourselves and work on areas of improvement. The first step to a healthy mindset is cleansing the toxicity that clouds your minds and free your body. We want you completely relaxed today.

This morning you will both be partaking in a couples yoga session. It’ll be challenging and require a strong level of communication. It will be rewarding and afterwards, you will feel accomplished and there will be a greater sense of connection.

A connection is the first step to a relationship.

See you soon.

Louis’ eyes dart over the writing, once and then twice. He frowns and looks back up towards where Harry had been standing but the room is empty. It’s just Louis, the dirty dishes and broken pieces of the plate. And Louis starts to wonder if those broken pieces were a significant representation of the man he’s going to be stuck with. He focuses hard on the chores at hand, pushing Harry to the back of his brain. He numbly sweeps up the jagged shards at his feet and disposes of it, and then he cleans the used utensils. However, he stares out the window, brain completely disassociated from his physical being. He doesn’t even notice when Harry reappears into the room, clearly having showered in the ensuite.

AKA the only bathroom in the whole fucking house. Because yeah…that’s just the way it’s set up here.

He’s now changed into gear ready for physical activity. Louis’ only momentarily aware of Harry’s presence when the door slams shut and then the room feels heavy and cold. It’s like the sun has been sucked out from the room, and there’s no presence of happiness. Just a bitter, angry and toxic air that wraps tightly around Louis’ throat slowly suffocating him.

When the dishes are done, Louis slowly changes into clothing appropriate for yoga. He’s also aware that he’s going to be sweating bucket loads under the blistering sun. He also lays on his bed for a prolonged amount of time, careful to give Harry more than enough time to hopefully settle down. Except almost 45 minutes have passed and Louis is still staring blankly at the fan that spins above the bed, and his skin is kissed with the gentle breeze that flows from it. He can’t keep putting it off so he stops doing exactly that, and forces himself to move again.

The journey outside feels like it’s in slow motion but he’s finally walking towards Harry. Harry who’s seated on a mat, back scarily straight and legs crossed. He’s inhaling loudly and slowly and then followed by a strong exhale. Louis clears his throat when he starts to sit on the mat that is placed beside him.

One of Harry’s eyes slightly open, green irises shimmering under the daylight and skin once again radiating. His lips, however, pull into a hard line and then the other eye opens.

“I wasn’t sure when to come out. It’s been like 45 minutes so-,” Except Louis doesn’t get to whisper anymore because he’s suddenly aware of the presence of a third being that stands a few feet away. Louis’ eyes land on bare feet and slowly rise until they land on the face.

It’s another male with extremely long jet black hair pulled into a tight man bun, shirtless and wearing baggy pants maroon pants that reach his knees. He smiles gently down at both Louis and Harry, and he exuberates a natural radiance that melts the tension away.

“Um…Hi,” Louis says slowly, completely at a loss to who the fuck this person is. If they don’t introduce themselves in the next 2 seconds…

“Hi there. I’m Zayn and I’m your yoga instructor. And who must you two gorgeous beings be?”

Louis looks over at Harry incredulously, eyes widening for a moment and he tilts his head. A universal signal for Harry to speak first because Louis’ brain is still trying to wrap around the current moment. Harry relaxes from his straightened position and places on hand on the mat underneath him, leaning backwards.

“I’m Harry, and this is Louis. We’ve been partnered up during this experiment and now we’re here,” He speaks, voice equally as flat as his face. Louis can feel the guilt gnawing at his insides.

“Well, Harry and Louis. I just wanted to say welcome to Paradise Island. This is going to be such an exceptional experience; I can promise you. You’ll come to find inner peace and also understand more about yourself. You’ll fall in love with this place,”

“So far hasn’t been too exceptional,” Harry mutters.

Zayn’s honey-golden eyes widen with shock and he frowns for a second but tries his best to quickly cover up it up with a smile. A really wide, fake and uncomfortable smile. Louis is starting to despise it here.

“I can understand, it’s a big transition but I’m here to help you fit right in. We want you both to work on any emotional or physical tension and let your concerns melt away. It’s my job to have you both enjoying your time here. If you could both stand up. I have an exercise before we start,”

Harry follows the instructions without a second thought, and once Louis realises he’s moving to stand up, he follows. In just a few moments they’re both standing, facing Zayn and both looking equally as awkward.

“I need you to face one another and place your palms up in front of you. Like you’re about to push an invisible force. Except I want you to place your palms to one another and read the energies of each other. Really immerse yourself on the other person. We’ll break it all down,”

“I don’t need to touch his palm to get his vibe. He’s an absolute twat, constantly angry and on edge. I don’t know who hurt him, but he’s really out for blood. On the other hand, I’m fine,” Harry starts as Louis hesitantly lifts his palms, but falters at Harry’s words. Zayn looks between Harry and Louis, frowning now and looking a little perplexed.

“You really sure about that? Do you really think you’re fine when you’re throwing objects around like it’s fruit ninja or something? He thinks I’m angry…He just can’t handle a smart mouth. At least I don’t get physically violent,” Louis shoots back, and then he crosses his arms across his chest. Harry’s whole face twists into a scowl and the rigidness returns into his shoulders.

“Oh no,” Zayn sighs, and both Harry and Louis’ head snaps towards him. They watch as he assesses the situation carefully, chewing on his nails and humming to himself. Louis can see his mind whirring to life trying to figure out what to do with them. They’re a lost cause, truthfully. “I need you to press your palms together. Do not speak. We don’t speak negatively. We only radiate peace, love and happiness. We treat people with kindness. Let that be your mantra gentleman. Repeat it every day,”

Harry raises his palms and Louis rolls his eyes and does the same. They take a step closer to one another and then their palms make contact. Two warm, calloused surfaces pressing against one another. It’s an electric current that surges through Louis, causing a jumpstart to his heart. Harry doesn’t flinch, in fact, Harry seems the most unbothered he has ever been.

“Close your eyes. Focus your energies and channel them through your hands,”

Louis closes his eyes. He doesn’t even fucking know what type of energy he has, let alone how to conduct it and channel it through his hands and into another person. Does he look like a spiritual guidance officer?! This has to be a complete joke. He focuses his irritation, anger and confusion and pretends he’s trying to project it out of his body and forward. He wants it to bowl Harry over, so he’s aware of exactly how much he gets on Louis’ nerves.

He hears Harry let out a huffed laugh and Louis frowns. He wants to open his eyes and look at what is going on but he doesn’t let his curiously get the better of him. He’s almost becoming increasingly aware of the rising temperature of his hands. It’s like his hands are on a hot-plate and Harry is turning it up to the highest setting.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Louis seethes, eyes and jaw clenched. He exhales through his nose, hand shifting against the uncomfortable heat.

“I could ask the same to you? You’re a million fucking degrees,”

“I’m a million degrees? I am? You’re the one with an out of control anger problem. Can you dial it down a little? I can’t focus on the energies when you’re trying to disintegrate my nerve endings,”

Harry pushes forward with his palms, ever so slightly. It’s enough for Louis to shift on his feet to gain balance. Louis isn’t exactly sure why he’s challenging him but Louis wasn’t ever going to back down to this moron with a god complex.

“Gentleman. Zip it,” Zayn cuts their bickering, his voice louder and more commanding. Louis bites the inside of his cheek to prevent him from running his mouth again. “You’re feeling the heat, is that right?”

Louis hears the agreeing hum that rumbles from Harry’s presence in front of him and he silently nods in response. He doesn’t need to open his eyes because it’s clear that Zayn is watching them closely enough.

“That’s passion,” Zayn says enthusiastically. “You’re both very passionate, strong-willed and clearly hot-headed men. That’s the energy you’re exuberating. Even your energies are battling for dominance and that’s what the heat is. You both need to take a step back and realise it’s not about who’s got control here. You are equal human beings. No one is more important than the other. Push your masculinity aside and focus on the energies in the core of your being. We’ll take turns. Harry dial down and let Louis communicate first,”

Harry doesn’t respond but the heat slowly simmers down until it’s like holding a warm coffee mug, rather than touching the surface of the sun. Louis is both shocked and surprised. His mind is going a million miles an hour and he doesn’t know what to do because he’s never experienced something like this in his life. He’d usually make fun of an activity like this but there’s genuinely something happening. He can feel the shift in power, the shift in heat. It’s starting to weird him out.

Louis focuses on whatever emotion he holds close to his heart. It takes a few moments and he does this by drowning out the present moment. The feeling of Harry’s hands slowly disappears, and so does the feeling of the ocean breeze blowing through his hair. There’s no sound of birds, no Zayn’s commands and there are no sounds of waves from afar.

Instead, he imagines snippets of the big and little moments of his adult life that lead up to this moment, every tiny little detail of his relationship with Eleanor, his friends and family. Reliving his first afternoon and night on this fucking island and Louis’ heart is hammering against his ribcage again. He’s never had this much anxiety this close together and he’s starting to think he needs to go psychologist mode and get a grip on himself. Slowly but surely, he lets the sound of Zayn’s voice to slowly trickle back in.

“What do you feel Harry?”

“Uh-It’s not so much as hot, or a cold kind of feeling. It’s like icicles are in my chest. My heart hurts but not in the way that I’m going to have a heart attack. It’s more like heartbreak, like a lot of it. It’s not pleasant and it’s like a constant ache. I guess it’s cold now. I don’t… yeah I don’t know,” Harry mumbles, and there’s a hint of sadness that stings Louis deeply. Because is that what Harry is genuinely feeling? Is this what Louis radiates?

“Interesting. Louis if you could clear your thoughts and let Harry communicate to you,” Zayn orders.

Louis’ mind lets go of all his current thoughts that are swimming through his head and stops focusing on emotion. He tries his best to make himself a blank canvas, an attempt to finally get some sort of insight into the man in front of him.

The very first thing Louis registers is strong waves of electric currents that shoot straight to his heart. They’re not so much painful, but they’re enough to jolt his insides to life. The heat of his hand dissipates and begins to feel like he’s got his hand against cold concrete. The jolts slow down, and Louis starts to feel like he’s suddenly claustrophobic. It feels like he’s stuck inside a never-ending tunnel of pitch-black and there’s no way out. Except this doesn’t trigger anxiety, which it usually would. He just feels empty and lost. Unsure of where the light is because there isn’t one. It’s cold. Everything is cold.

Louis wants to search, he wants to dig deeper because this is just the surface. There has to be more to the loneliness and abyss that suddenly shrouds every fibre of his being. He desperately trying to feel for another emotion or another feeling. He focuses on every nerve ending, on every impulse that takes over his body but there’s nothing. It’s just stagnant.

“What do you feel Louis?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing,” Louis breathes, his voice soft and lacking any type of emotion it once held. It was shock, it was disbelief but mostly it was lost. “I feel like drowning in absolute nothingness and it’s cold. What-,”

Harry drops his palms then and every fucking feeling that had overcome Louis sucked away instantly. It’s like Louis was covered in a giant thick blanket and Harry just ripped the covers away. He’s now standing in blinding lights and he has to refocus. Louis opens his eyes and blinks, looking at Harry who stares ahead at Zayn. He doesn’t look impressed. He looks severely uncomfortable. Louis wants to speak again, and he goes to open his mouth but nothing comes out.

“How was that for a warm-up?”

Louis doesn’t even bother answering, and he absolutely ignores Zayn explaining how the session is going to work. Because... all he can focus on the memory of that abyss. Now that Louis is in touch with his own senses and feelings, it’s terrifying. It’s the most horrifying feeling reliving that drowning feeling, and there’s no way up or down or sideways. It’s infinite darkness and being completely lost.

Except when it was Harry, there wasn’t fear. It was like he had accepted it. He accepted that he was in the dark, accepted that his fate was to be shrouded in not knowing the light.


	9. That's For Me To Know

As the sun continues slowly rise above them and the heat bears down on them, Louis finds himself continuously twisting like a contortionist in yoga poses that shouldn’t even be legal, especially for beginners. Despite trying with all his power to focus on perfecting each pose his brain can’t help but fixate on the surging emotion’s that radiated from Harry’s being. And he also can’t help but watch in bitter jealously of the man moving with particular ease, gliding effortlessly into each position, sweat glistening off his milky skin and curls loosely dangling. Louis suffers in silence and tries his best to not think about it.

Who said that yoga was supposed to be calming and therapeutic activity? And who said that it’s supposed to lower blood pressure? Because Louis considers sending a strongly worded email to the person who released this information because, if anything, his blood pressure is increasing by tenfold. In all his years as a clinical psychologist, he’s offered clients yoga as an activity to boost serotonin and stabilise moods…and maybe he should have actually tried it before handing out the idea. This whole thing was the opposite of what relaxing should be, in fact, it was more stress-inducing. It wasn’t all about the increased frustration and inability to know what he’s doing, he was starting to doubt his own fitness. He’s never felt so unfit in his whole life. 

Fuck yoga.

Fuck yoga all the way to hell.

The entire session goes exactly like this; Louis grunting, loudly exhaling, cursing under his breath, and never completely understanding the concept of the pose. Harry does not speak an actual word through the entire session, and glistens underneath the glow of the rising sun. Zayn continues with his sickly calming nature. And Louis hates it, he hates every second of this.

It’s right at the last moment when the session ceases that Louis’ body completely folds in on itself and he lands face first into his mat with a loud ‘oomph’. He doesn’t even find the muscular strength to push himself up, and instead just relishes in the position for a few moments before weakly rolling onto his back. His tousled hair is matted, drenched, and sticking to both his forehead and the nape of his neck. The blinding sun instantly burns his pupils, forcing him to close his eyelids and weakly throw his forearm over his face to block out the light. All he can hear is the blood pulsing loudly in his ears, and his uneven breathing. He uses a few seconds to take deep breaths, desperate to not sound as unfit as he is and then lets his head loll to the side. His eyes partially open underneath this forearm, gaze falling on Harry’s figure, who’s already standing up and wiping himself down with an Egyptian cotton towel.

His skin is glazed in a thin layer of perspiration, chocolate ringlets sticking to his neck, jaw and forehead. The usual pale milkiness of his complexion darkened into a pale shade of red. It’s either he’s sunburnt or he’s just exerted himself and Louis has a feeling this was nowhere near physical exertion for him. And Louis’ next thought is he hopes Harry is sunburnt and is in misery for the next few days. Harry’s shoulders slump in a calm manner, any signs of rigidness now completely eased, and eyes focused on drying down the patches of sweat on his skin. And before Louis continues embarrassing himself staring and analysing, Zayn breaks his focus by speaking.

“Great session lads, how did you find it?” Zayn asks excitedly, and Louis’ eyes flicker back towards him. The man is not even huffing after going along with them. There’s just no way that anyone has that much cardiovascular or muscular endurance. It’s just not possible, even Harry is slightly out of breath.

“Wonderful Zayn, just absolutely wonderful. I can’t feel my legs,” Louis mumbles, brushing his wet fringe off his forehead. “In fact, I might be paralysed,”

“I’m not a drama queen like him but it was a nice experience. I usually do yoga or meditation every day anyway so it’s sort of nice to include it into my routine here as well. Keep some normalcy,” Harry smiles, rubbing the towel to his damp locks and then shrugs. Of course, this man does yoga, Louis is sure he’s a cyborg because it just isn’t humanly possible to have talent in all these areas.

“You definitely looked at home doing everything, I might have to organise some more advanced moves for our next session,” and that’s when Louis shoots upright, jaw-dropping slightly but then tries to gather his thoughts and pull together a response. Except Zayn cuts to the chase. “Not you Louis. We’ll just keep on working on the basic things. Baby steps,”

In Louis’ peripheral vision he sees Harry’s lips pull into a smirk, and it’s that type of look that Louis just knows he’s is making fun of him. Louis automatically sees red but he isn’t going to have another fight. He’s sick of being around this man. It’s been 24 hours, but it feels like it’s been 3 weeks. So, Louis swallows down a smart remark and instead forces a plastic smile on his face. “Thanks, Zayn, appreciate the support,”

“No worries. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.” Zayn starts to move, and Louis’ eyes follow his figure in shock as his mouth tries to pull together an intelligible sentence.

“Tomorrow? We’re doing this again tomorrow?” Louis huffs, shoulders slightly going slack. He rests his forearms on his knees, curling over still trying to catch his breath. “You’re not going to give my body a day to recover?”

“Beginners yoga isn’t supposed to be a whole-ass workout,” Louis is taken by surprise by the deep voice from a few feet away in the direction of the villa. He was expecting Zayn to reply, and it had appeared he was about to speak too, but Harry had gone right ahead and spoken for him. In a less than a professional reply. Louis narrows his eyes.

“Not for you anyway, yoga guru,” Louis says in the fakest upbeat tone, that he just knows it gets under Harry’s skin. Harry’s reaction is barely recognisable, just a very small falter of the smirk in the corner of his lips, eyes darkening just a smidge.

“If you’ve not had the experience it can be difficult, even as a beginner. Thank you, Harry. It’s hard at first but if we keep doing it, it’ll help a lot to release the tension in your chakras and throughout your body,” Zayn looks at Louis, then eyes flitter towards Harry then back towards Louis.

Chakras.

This is absolutely humiliating. No one takes this seriously. Do they?

“Right, well. Thanks for that. I guess I’ll see you again tomorrow morning,” Louis lifts his hand up to his forearm, saluting Zayn goodbye. The corner of Zayn’s eyes squint as he smiles, returning the gesture and walking away.

Louis remains completely silent, stuck in his own world as Zayn’s figure continues to walk further away and then rounds the corner until he disappears behind large green shrubbery. And Louis can’t help but be curious to know where the hell he’s going? What is beyond the shrubbery? So he mentally theorises until he decides to finally stand up, following the process of drying himself down. Eyes focused on each movement, body aching and brain screaming for him to look back towards Harry. But he won’t. He won’t give in. That’s until Harry finally speaks and Louis almost breaks the vertebrae in his neck.

“Uh. Since you occupy the main bedroom that has the ensuite. I assumed that it was alright to shower there this morning. I-I can rinse off in the outdoor shower. I just- I don’t know what I’m even trying to say. I’m sweaty and I feel gross if I spend the rest of the day like this. Are you opposed to sharing a shower?” Harry shifts on his feet, anxiously itching the back of his head and face scrunching up in thought as he monitors Louis’ reaction.

Louis’ eyes widen and he literally chokes on his own spit. He splutters like an absolute freak and just stares at Harry. Who also realises exactly what he just said, and reddens with embarrassment and shakes his head. “I-um. I,” Louis stutters. Harry holds his hand up to instantly cut him off.

“I meant as in we take turns in showering. We have both our belongings in the shower. Share the vicinity, not actually both shower at once,”

And then Louis feels like a downright fool and lets out he loudest puff of air, and his whole body relaxes like Jell-O. He laughs at himself then because what an absolute moron for thinking Harry meant showering together. “Yeah. Go. Go wash off. I’m gonna spend time in the sun. Got my headphones and iPod,” Louis points towards the gadgets that he’d placed to the side earlier.

Harry doesn’t say anything, he just nods and lets out a quick hum. And then he moves with precision back towards the villa. Louis stays there stunned for a moment, blinking blankly, and trying to gather his thoughts. It takes a few minutes but eventually, he’s back to reality and also incredibly uncomfortable with the way his shirt coldly sticks to his skin, completely damp with sweat. He scrunches his nose in disgust, and instinctually pulls the shirt over his head and completely exposing his torso and chest to the sun. He literally glistens now, beads of sweat sparkling in the sun. At this moment Louis can’t help but feel like Edward Cullen stepping into the sun, except, he is just a plain old human. He doesn’t have superpowers and he’s also not immortal. Unfortunately. Which by the way, Twilight is a horrible franchise…but Louis kind of guiltily enjoys it? He doesn’t stay standing for long because then he’s grabbing his headphones and putting them on and then finding a comfortable patch of grass to lay on. He spends a little while scrolling through his playlist and in the end, puts it on shuffle and basks in the glow of the sun. He stays like that for a few hours, switching sides to keep the tan even.

Louis spends most of the day relishing in the freedom, the warmth and not having to interact with Harry. He also keeps himself smothered consistently with sunscreen because the last thing he wants to endure is a horrible sunburn. That would put a total dampener on this whole thing. He thinks about what things are like at home right now, and he also wonders how Niall is keeping himself busy. Because his favourite hobby was harassing Louis at all hours of the day and as the music drifts him into a state of relaxation, his brain wonders through the possibilities of what Eleanor is up to. He doesn’t dwell on it too long though, because he starts to feel that insidious jealously creep through his veins. It isn’t until lunchtime when his stomach starts to gurgle loudly, begging for nourishment. He tries to put it off, but the hunger-induced nausea kicks in and he just knows he can’t avoid it any longer. Plus, he really should also rinse off because between the sunscreen and sweat he feels sticky and disgusting.

So Louis does exactly that, he packs his gatherings up and heads back into the villa and he really doesn’t try and look for a sign of Harry Styles. And the whole adventure from the outside, through the house and into the bathroom Harry doesn’t make a single appearance which is actually truly a blessing in disguise. There was no conversation to be made after the earlier incident and Louis was way too stubborn to apologise for his asshole behaviour and it was also no help that Harry radiates arrogance. The only sign of Harry’s existence is the random cologne that sits on the bathroom bench; a hickory coloured bottle with a golden square in the centre and Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille printed across it. Louis freezes at the sight of it, eyes flickering back towards the bedroom and then around the bathroom as if Harry’s just standing there waiting for Louis to react (which wouldn’t come as a surprise at this point). There’s the completely overwhelming curiousity to find out what it smells like and all Louis knows is that he really shouldn’t because one spray would probably equate to a quarter of his week’s salary. He doesn’t know much about designer brands, because he was not a richling like the man himself and was rather apart of the bourgeoisie. A middle-class man that lived comfortably, but it really was appearing like Harry Styles literally sweat out money bags at this point.

So Louis has the thought, that maybe just one spray won’t damage the man's wallet too much. He probably will make the money back before Louis can even blink. He does a double-take just to be completely sure that Harry wasn’t just about to pounce on him and then steps towards the bottle and then picks it up. It’s heavy in his palm and it feels rich and Louis starts to panic in case he drops it. So, he moves quick, and sprays the air once and then places it back in the exact same spot he found it. The first thing that assaults his nostrils is a deep smoky scent that is slightly spiced; tobacco. Louis had been smoking on and off most of his adult life and not once has tobacco smelt this sensual. The smoked tobacco scent is mixed with a subtle hint of soft vanilla and cacao. Louis blinks and exhales, mind whirring and body tensing at the endorphins rushing through his body. And then he realises he very well might be attracted to a god damn scent.

The scent is completely individual, strong but leaves his whole-body tingling for more. It’s the perfect mixture of masculine but with womanly undertones that it could fit literally anyone. But at the same time, this was the scent that could only fit Harry Styles. If that makes any sense. Before his thoughts can take a different turn, Louis forces his brain to focus on turning the shower on and making sure it’s the perfect temperature.

He steps into the shower, toes flinching as they contact the chilled ceramic floor. It’s a temporary relief from his thoughts; his mind in shreds and unable to force the memories of the energy reading out. Louis reaches for the cool dial, twisting it further and allowing for the temperature to rise again. Thousands of searing hot droplets hit his skin, drenching his hair, and trickling down his back. As the water pours down, dripping by his side, his mind fades into the familiar dullness and the foggy confusion that had overcome him earlier. The sensation of the steam and warm water against his skin calms him; his mind slowing down.

It isn’t nearly the same strength as what he’d experienced earlier but it’s just enough to leave that empty feeling in the pit of his stomach and a horrible numbness that spreads through all his limbs. Louis doesn’t know which way is out or around at this point and it feels the darkness is eternal but he’s desperate to find a slither of hope. Because Harry wouldn’t have given up on happiness, surely? Louis tries his best to focus on everything, but the feeling weakens with every passing second and he can feel himself becoming increasingly more desperate for answers. His insides are clawing at the emptiness, desperate to hold onto it but it is like it evaporates in just a few moments. And just as fast as the abyss had taken over, it is gone, and Louis’ eyes shoot open and lungs suddenly gasping for air.

Louis’ hands forward as his whole-body weight crumbles and his hands press against the cool tiles. He blinks the water out of his eyes as he loudly gasps for more air, his mind slowly catching up to the current moment. He hadn’t even realised he was holding his breath; it wasn’t on purpose and then he realises maybe that’s what Harry’s doing. Holding his breath and waiting for the best. Louis shakes his head, lifting one hand from the tiles and runs it over his face and notices the way it shakes. In fact, his whole body is shaking like a leaf but it’s not a panic attack. He’s experienced enough anxiety attacks in his life to know one when it happens, this one was just shock. Like his body was dealing with a high impact situation but not knowing how to handle it. There are too many things to unpack and Louis never usually would allow someone else’s mental state to impact his life but this felt different. This felt like a dire situation with only one horrible conclusion and this was enough for Louis to let out a choked sob, hand shakily pressing against his lips and eyes closing. How is he supposed to reach out and get Harry to open up?

Louis spends the last five minutes of his shower trying to get a grip on himself mentally, piecing together his sanity and telling himself not to lose his identity. Eventually, he steps out of the bathroom, billows of steam surrounding him, and fresh cold air kisses his warm skin. He considers climbing into the comfort of his bed and having an afternoon nap because even though the day has only consisted of yoga and tanning, he feels like his energy has been completely drained. But he should face Harry and try and converse because so far nothing about this experience has been great.

After long consideration and extreme amounts of stalling Louis finally exits the comfort of his bedroom and walks down the hallway and towards the lounge room. There’s no sign of Harry inside which also begs the question: where the fuck is he? But before he can attempt to go find him, he needs food and literally immediately because his stomach twists painfully and he’s starting to feel lightheaded. He can’t be assed putting effort into a whole meal so he reaches for a banana and leaves, silently searching for a sign of Harry. And it doesn’t take long before he finds him.

In the backyard, yet again, Harry is found standing and staring at an inflatable pool that has magically appeared out of nowhere. Louis stops walking as his eyes fall on the pool and he swallows his bite of the banana, frowning in confusion.

“What’s with the pool?” He speaks, and Harry’s head snaps in his direction. His face automatically lights up and is no longer flat and concentrating. Louis tries to ignore the deep dimples that appear on either cheek as he takes another cautious bite of his lunch.

“You see, I’d hate for you to actually drown if you decide to swim. I thought I’d get a kiddy pool for you. I even went as far as purchasing your floaties,” Harry drawls, leaning down and lifting up a fluorescent green and yellow pair of arm floatation devices clearly for a toddler. Louis doesn’t respond and just stares at Harry, completely and utterly unamused. Harry dangles them, shaking them and really failing at not laughing. “I thought rather than you go down to the open water, which is now completely banned... if you get a bit too hot you can just sit in this. But as long as you wear the right things so you don’t drown in it,”

“That water is probably about 12 inches deep,” Louis says flatly, meeting Harry’s playful gaze and he tries his best not to say anything to potentially cause another outburst. He’s trying, he’s really trying. Lord give him strength. “I would not physically be able to drown in that depth,”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Harry beams, throwing the floaties gently until they land at Louis’ feet and Louis really wants to erupt. “We can never be too sure with you Louis Tomlinson, I have to be reassured,”

“You think you’re funny,” Louis kicks them out of his way, and storms towards a sun chair. He doesn’t look at Harry, and he won’t look at Harry. “Is this where you disappeared off to? To organise this being delivered? How the fuck did you even organise this?”

“I have connections,” It’s a simple sentence but it definitely catches Louis’ attention but Louis tries to play it off cool because he doesn’t want Harry to know.

“We don’t have phones here, so I’d like to know,”

“It doesn’t matter. The main thing is you have somewhere to splash about in. I was going to go for a surf but I’ve showered and I don’t think it’s smart to shower three times in one day. So I spent time on this instead,” Harry’s voice is filled with an annoying amount of joy and Louis wants to knock it right out of him but he can’t. He wants to know more about this boy, he wants a full in-depth psychological profile to understand what is going on.

“Sure. Well thank you, I’ll definitely make good use of it. I appreciate the gesture,” Louis looks at Harry briefly, smiling and then taking another bite of the banana. Harry’s smile falters and then he frowns, and Louis could punch the air. Because he’s winning and Harry is losing. That’s exactly what he wants.

“Oh,”

“So, how did you find this morning?” Louis asks carefully, eyes focused ahead of him and trying with all his might not to look back in Harry’s direction. But he notices in his peripheral vision Harry stiffen and roll his shoulders. “Like the little exercise we did, and then the yoga.”

“Uh, the yoga was fine. As I said, it’s apart of my usual routine so I actually enjoyed it. Almost as much as I enjoyed you struggle and fail miserably,”

“I didn’t fail miserably,” Louis deadpans, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. You literally face planted,” Harry pauses, thinking to himself and then speaks again. “On more than one occasion, might I add,”

“Alright. We get it. I’m not physically the fittest but I have a good personality so that’s all that matters.” To which Harry scoffs which leaves Louis feeling a little hurt. “What are you scoffing at?”

“A good personality. I wouldn’t quite put you under that category and that’s from personal experience.” Harry says softly and Louis isn’t sure he even heard it, maybe he was imagining it. But there’s an unreadable expression painted on Harry’s face that leaves Louis’ insides twinging with guilt. Louis stares at the slightly pouted pink bottom lip of Harry’s and he swallows thickly.

“I think we just like to argue too much. Maybe we should stop being so serious,” Louis responds, and he’s cautious with each word. He watches in case a word triggers Harry’s face to fall into a scowl or flinch with hurt, but the expression of emptiness doesn’t change. Louis knows for a fact he’s going to analyse every fucking twitch of emotion and he knows the next 12 weeks are going send him around the twist. “Rather than bickering and trying to get underneath each other’s skin, we could maybe just talk like decent people,”

Louis notices as Harry’s eyebrows raise slightly, causing deep lines in his forehead and his eyes flash with emotion that Louis assumes as shock. It’s only for a millisecond but it’s enough for Louis to register it and maybe he really should stop staring. It might be obvious. “You’re trying to get under my skin?” and then Louis completely locks up. Because fuck. How does he answer that?

“You were doing it first,”

“All I was doing was existing,” Harry frowns. “Does my existence get under your skin?” and suddenly his voice is drenched with a heart-wrenching sadness that makes Louis’ head spin and fingers twitch. Every atom in Louis’ body wants to charge forward and pull Harry into a hug but he won’t. That’d be weird and a punch would be completely warranted if he did. Louis can’t even find the words to speak, which in return causes Harry’s shoulders to hunch slightly which feels like a direct blow to Louis’ sternum.

“If it’s any consolation you’re not the only one that feels that way,” Harry’s voice wavers for a second and Louis is certain he’s on the brink of crying, but Harry clears his throat and forces a large smile. Except Louis can see straight through it, he can see the empty void hidden Harry’s eyes.

“What? Why would you even say that? You don’t get under my skin…okay maybe yes at first but I think you were just doing that on purpose. So, I gave you a taste of your own medicine,” Louis speaks quickly, words unable to come out fast enough. His eyes dart all over Harry’s figure, desperate for any insight on what he’s feeling. He wants to feel it, he wants to understand.

“My existence causes nothing but unnecessary stress and regret to a lot of people, unfortunately. But it’s fine because I’m happy within myself and that’s all that matters,” And it’s like someone has shot Louis right in his heart and there’s a gaping hole and his soul is bleeding out through it. Louis doesn’t move, he doesn’t even blink. He just stares at the dejected figure that crouches on the grass and picks at it. He’s fidgeting and that means he’s uncomfortable or anxious; Louis knows that much.

“I wouldn’t say you cause a lot of unnecessary stress to your family and friends. The only reason that I’ve been stressed is because I came here under the impression I was going to be partnered up with a female and experience a relationship kind of thing. I thought that’s what this was all about,” Louis chews the last of the banana and swallows, staring at the floor. He doesn’t want to look at Harry too long because then it’d be weird, but he can feel Harry’s gaze burning through his soul.

“You can still experience a relationship while here. I mean…it’s not what you probably wanted but it’s something. And I’m not saying a relationship where you are romantic and are cheating on Eleanor…again. But we can try not to be assholes with each other and be friends. It might help,” And Harry blinks up at Louis slowly, his dark eyelashes brushing against his cheekbones and skin completely illuminated under the glow of the sun. “And back to the whole not causing stress to my family and friends…you wouldn’t have a clue about that,”

Louis leans forward at this, heart hammering against his ribcage and he grips the edge of the chair as he’s overcome with a surge of concern. Is that why Harry acts the way he does? Are they the reason why he’s so lost? Louis watches silently as Harry suddenly flops backwards onto the grass and closes his eyes, his ringlets splayed underneath him and face blank. He closes his eyes and sighs. Louis suppresses the urge to walk towards him and grips the edge of the chair so tight that his knuckles go white. Self-control. Self-control.

“Why would they feel that way about you?” Louis asks, and it’s becoming abundantly clear that this is starting to sound like a therapy session, and he doesn’t want it to sound that way. But it’s all he’s good at. He’s good at listening and good at helping others open up. He’s constantly doing it without even thinking about it.

“It’s just that…they’ve got certain ways of living and they have strict guidelines for us to live by. My sister, Gemma, she’s the golden child. She’s the favourite; always being praised and given the best things in life. They’re so far up her ass that it’s sickening,” Harry mutters, bitterly chuckling to himself, voice laced with agitation. Louis feels like there’s a lump in his throat and he forces a swallow, but it doesn’t help. Not even a little bit. “I’m not like Gemma. I never got good grades, I never went to university and I sure as hell didn’t graduate. She’s got this perfect relationship with no issues and she’s engaged and they’re all manically organising this dream wedding that my parents are funding. Because you know, she’s perfect and deserves nothing less,” Harry says is a defeated tone and shit, Louis can’t even respond now. He just stares until he can find his voice again.

“And you’re different because you didn’t go to university?” Louis says lowly, brain trying to breakdown everything Harry had just said, desperate to pinpoint the issue. But there isn’t one.

“I’m different in that way yeah because university degrees mean something. They mean a stable job in the end and that you’ve got that certificate saying you’ve achieved something. But I don’t have that. I wasn’t good at academics, but I was good at other things. It didn’t matter though because it was all about academics and a picture-perfect life between husband and wife,”

“Husband and wife? You’re married?” Louis’ eyes suddenly flicker to Harry’s rings that are placed on almost every finger, heart skipping a beat as he counts every ring and what finger they’re on. And he doesn’t even notice the breath of relief he does when he sees the ring finger bare from any type of metal.

“God no. I wouldn’t.” Harry suddenly laughs, voice loud and clear compared to his previous emotion. “I don’t think it will ever be that way,”

“You don’t think you’ll ever get married?” Louis frowns. “With Liv? Or ever?”

Harry hums to himself and bites down hard on his bottom lip whilst in deep thought. He runs a hand through his hair and stays quiet for a few moments. Louis shifts in the chair so that he’s more upright.

“I don’t think I’ll ever marry Liv. And will I ever get married? I don’t think my life is capable of that. Everything is too chaotic, and I don’t think I’ll ever have the right of having the freedom to marry someone,” Harry speaks carefully, his voice becoming softer with every word.

“You’ve been together for 2 years and you don’t think you’ll marry her?” Louis suddenly asks and he watches as Harry clenches his jaw and frowns.

“Well. You’ve been with Eleanor for twice as long and you’re not married. You’ve made it clear by saying girlfriend a lot. So why haven’t you popped the question? Do you see yourself marrying her?” Harry throws the question right back at Louis, and Louis freezes and is completely stunned. He doesn’t really know how to answer that, and he hesitates and his mind scrambles for an answer.

“She wants marriage, she’s brought up the topic more times than I can count in a conversation. All her friends are getting married, starting their own families. I know she wants all of that but how can I promise that when we’re not…we’re not even really together. I don’t have my life together and we’re certainly not working too well and a ring and a child isn’t going to be a band-aid. It needs to be real and genuine,”

“So, do you see yourself marrying Eleanor? At all?” Harry asks, and Louis really contemplates it. He thinks about everything they’ve been through, and how he currently feels about her at the moment.

“If you’d asked me that in university at some point I would’ve said yeah. We were close enough for that and I had pictured it happening. But now, I’m not so sure. But that’s why I’m here to fix that. I want to be strong enough to mend our relationship and then maybe I can feel that way again. But I noticed you avoided the question yourself. Do you think you’ll end up marrying Liv?” 

“No,” Harry says flatly, and Louis blinks once. Twice. His brain double-checks to make sure he’s heard it correctly and he looks at Harry who doesn’t move.

“No? What? Like ever?”

“Not ever,” Harry seems completely unbothered, and any sign of hesitation and emotion has completely vanished which leaves Louis flawed for words. He doesn’t even know how to respond anymore.

“Why are you with her then? What are you getting out it?” Louis frowns, and now suddenly he’s annoyed. Because there’s a poor woman that is on the other side of that relationship who is probably waiting for it to happen and dreaming of it. Two years and not once has the thought crossed his mind? “It hasn’t even crossed your mind once?”

“It crossed my mind once, but it wasn’t out of love. I thought it’d keep my parents off my back, but I couldn’t put someone through that,”

Louis’ jaw drops and his whole body tenses, and he can’t help but feel himself becoming increasingly more annoyed because what the fuck is wrong with this person?

“Two years. You’ve been with her for two years and you…do you even love her?”

“No,” Harry sits up, his eyes falling on Louis and Louis suddenly feels like he’s a deflating balloon. Harry’s face looks frozen, free from any emotion. His eyes are empty, soulless green-grey and it’s scary. Louis’ throat closes up and he parts his lips as he stares back at Harry.

“Why are you with her?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to never find out,”

And then it’s over. Harry pushes himself off the grass, brushes the blades off his pants and smiles at Louis as if the conversation that occurred never even happened in the first place. Louis doesn’t respond but just stares in complete shock, frozen in the spot in his chair. Harry doesn’t speak again but instead walks back in the direction of the villa and Louis watches him disappear through the back doors and inside. What the fuck.


	10. Make A Break For It

The following days and the concept of time dissolve into itself, becoming shapeless; with no structure or distinctive pattern. All Louis can recall is that Harry doesn’t really speak much, in fact, he spends a lot of his time disappearing with his moleskin journal in tow. His disappearances are sporadic, never at a set time. Louis does his best not to stick his nose in Harry’s business, and he most definitely refrains from asking any intrusive questions that might set off a chain of nasty responses. They’ve managed to avoid any sort of disruption to their daily lives and also miraculously have not bickered, which is genuinely surprising to Louis.

Until the fifth day, when Harry returns from one disappearing stint which leaves Louis reeling with a million questions that are better off unsaid. It’s on that day when Louis finally finds some sort of breakthrough from Harry’s blasé demeanour, which in return leaves his mile-high walls threatening to tumble. It’s midday and he’s curled on the couch wrapped in a knitted blanket with the aircon blasting at almost sub-zero temperature when there’s a loud thud in the direction of the back door. It’s loud enough for his attention to jolt from the television and towards the source. And once Louis’ gaze falls on the doorframe, he immediately registers Harry’s presence; shoulders slouched in a radiating sadness. Louis didn’t even need to look at his face to understand. In fact, he wishes he hadn’t.

Louis automatically sits up straighter, back arching to for a better view to assess the damage. Which in return might be in his list of biggest regrets of his lifetime; because Harry’s eyes flicker towards him for the slightest second but it’s all slow motion for Louis. Immediately he is aware of Harry’s eyes; a fern green mixed with a soulless grey that has his heart lurching in his chest. But Louis momentarily loses grip on sanity when his vision focuses on the slight swell of his eyes, and the tinge of redness framing his irises. Louis grips the blanket, desperately focusing on the feeling of the fabric to distract his brain, lips parting as his breath silently fans outwards.

The entirely of that interaction lasts no longer than 5 seconds, but to Louis, it may as well have been 60. The reality of the speed finally catches up to Louis once he blinks and tries to look back towards Harry. Except now he’s already disappeared down the hallway without a single word or noise. In the last four days, they had managed a simple routine of Harry using the shower as needed, and Louis doesn’t even question it. Except he does question Harry’s sanity when he continuously sleeps on the hammock every night. It doesn’t make sense, especially considering there’s a perfectly functional, and very soft, couch. A couch that would be twice as comforting as a bloody hammock. But Harry Styles will do what he wants, and supposedly he wants to spend his nights sleeping outside.

As Louis works through his loud thoughts, mind whirring and conspiracies popping up in every corner of his brain, he eventually finds himself completely frozen. The second a horrible intrusive thought enters his brain Louis briefly shifts his position, eyeballing between the television and the direction of the bedroom. He’s mentally at war with himself. Should he check on him or should he give him space? The inner professional screamed at him to go ahead, check and decode the root of his issues, but this wasn’t his job. Harry Styles was not Louis Tomlinson’s job to fix.

Louis spends a considerable amount of time debating breaking his moral code, and in the end, he decides it's not wise to stick his nose in others business. Instead, he turns his attention to Haunting of Hill House. Which, in fact, was moderately terrifying and Louis really wasn’t good with the horror genre. But it offered a genuine distraction. A full half an hour passes of Louis watching, partially hidden underneath the blanket, eyes peering over the edge when Harry finally appears.

He steps into the open space of the lounge room, ruffling his damp hair and appearing slightly less frazzled than thirty minutes earlier. He appears blank of emotion again until he notices Louis’ rigid body peeping out from underneath the magenta blanket in the corner of the couch. In the next second, he realises what is happening when he looks at the screen. He takes in the scene that Louis is watching, and he realises it’s the same show that every man and his dog have watched. Well, everyone but Harry. And there was a very good reason for avoiding it for this long.

“Why are you watching that? Isn’t it supposed to be disturbing?” Harry’s voice pierces the silence like a bullet in the dark. Louis doesn’t answer, and instead shrugs and attempts to look less like a scared child but it’s already way too late for that. Harry cautiously walks forward, closing the distance between himself and the couch and slumps into it. “I’ve not watched it. How far are you into it?”

“Not that far. I can probably start it again if you want to. I feel like you need to understand the backstory otherwise this won’t make sense,” Louis swallows thickly, fidgeting with the blanket and eyes focusing on the screen. There’s an avoidance of eye contact, purely for the fact it won’t take much for the questions to start flowing and he really doesn’t want to go down that route.

“I don’t think horror is my forte, to be honest. I’ve been thinking about starting End of The Fucking World. Have you heard of that one?” Harry doesn’t move his gaze from the screen, face scrunching at the scene unfolding in front of him and his lips purse uncomfortably. In Louis’ peripheral vision, he notices Harry fidgeting with one of his rings as he speaks.

“No, what’s it about?” Louis asks nonchalantly, treading the fine line of being not interested. He’s not good at this small talk but he’ll try it anyway. He doesn’t want Harry to know he’s trying to get inside his head, and he doesn’t want Harry to know that he’s constantly looking at his red-ringed eyes. And he also definitely doesn’t want Harry to know it’s making his heartache.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t know much other than the general gist. I’m usually a fan of things like Love is Blind-,” Harry starts but Louis immediately cuts him off. Harry shoots a glare towards his direction, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing in frustration, but Louis doesn’t even acknowledge him.

“Love is Blind? Do you not have any taste in television shows?” Louis shakes his head, thinking to himself and then laughs. “You actually watch that shit? Wait…You probably watch Love Island right?” His eyes widen for a moment, the look of horror washes over his features and Harry doesn’t respond straight away. It isn’t until he notices Louis about to speak again that he finally opens his mouth.

“Love Island is actually pretty funny. Sometimes reality television and things about love can be interesting. A lot more real than acting.” He hums to himself. “I know most of the time they’re acting themselves, but it just feels more real. But. End of The Fucking World isn’t reality television so….”

“Thank god, I’d rather gauge my eyes out if it were,” Louis huffs, fingers tracing the remote and he notices in his peripheral vision Harry shift into a more comfortable position on the other end of the couch. “Sorry for cutting you off. Tell me about the show,”

“I’ve not watched it but apparently it’s about two teenagers that take off on a road trip and it’s pretty dark, but they actually fall in love with each other. The guy thinks he’s going to murder the girl like he has it planned out. And she just hates life and wants to leave. It sounds kind of fun,”

By this point, Louis’ gaze has finally settled on the man of mystery, and Louis’ eyes slowly take in the whole sight of him. Harry’s absentmindedly playing with his damp hair, a ringlet wrapped around one of his fingers as he stares at the tv. His eyes, although still swollen and still partially bloodshot, are bright chartreuse. His eyes alone are some of the most hypnotic Louis has come across in his life, and even from across the room it wasn’t hard to find himself lost in them. It was an endless pit of green emptiness, but Louis was certain there was more to it. He was going to find out.

“What part of any of that sounds remotely fun? Murdering people, hating your life, and then taking off? I don’t think so,” Louis shakes his head, and he notices that Harry’s face reflects dejection and his bottom lip slightly juts out. “Do you really think it’d be quality entertainment?”

“I think if you really hated your life enough, packing up and going away for a while could be really fun. And it’s more interesting bringing someone else along with you. Especially if they’re also not having a great time. It’s like… self-discovery and also making friends… or in that case… finding love. But I think it’s a cool concept,” Harry speaks softly, voice void of any bitterness that he usually radiates. Louis feels a surge of sadness overcome him as he watches the boy across from him speak with careful thought.

“So just to be clear, we’re talking about the Netflix show right? This is starting to sound too real to be Netflix,” Louis says without thinking. As the words leave his mouth and Harry flinches, Louis’ insides recoil in shame. “I didn’t mean it in a way that you might hate your life or anything. I just- I don’t know,” Louis tries to save himself but finds himself at a dead end.

“It’s fine. I mean, my life isn’t the best, but I wouldn’t say I hated it enough to want to disappear and start all over again. And I’m definitely not homicidal…unless you’re the homicidal one and I’m the one that wants to run away?” The corners of Harry’s pink lips upturn into a soft smile, and there’s a sense of playfulness that instantly relaxes Louis.

“I don’t think I’m homicidal unless we’re referring to the little leprechaun that decided to put me in this position. Then yeah, I’d say slightly murderous,” Louis mutters to himself and then decides to go back to the Netflix home screen to try and find the show that Harry mentioned.

“So, your best friend is Irish then?” Harry asks, and it does take Louis by surprise. Because Harry hasn’t really shown much care for knowing about him until right this very moment. So, Louis turns his head towards Harry and locks eyes with him. It’s enough for Louis’ insides to twist anxiously and heart rate instantly rises. Harry holds his gaze and he looks genuinely interested in the conversation.

“Yeah, never trust the Irish. I’ve no idea what he was thinking of when putting me here,” Louis rolls his eyes, and this time Harry does smile widely. Those dimples appear again, and Louis immediately diverts his attention back to the television. “I guess he was probably just trying to look out for me and my relationship, it hasn’t been the easiest lately. This was probably our last hope and that was before I had that horrendous night out. I don’t really know our chances of survival now,”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. If you’re soulmates then whatever issues that you have, you’ll work through it. If it’s the real thing, you can overcome anything,” Louis watches cautiously as Harry shrugs as he speaks, his eyes break contact and stare elsewhere. Harry runs a hand through his hair and clears his throat.

“You sound like a true romantic,” Louis scoffs. Harry doesn’t reply straight away, which makes Louis start to second guess his bantering. In fact, he finds himself about to start stammering to take it back, but Harry speaks before he has the chance to.

“I wouldn’t say I’m romantic. I just know what love is, and what love should be. It’s not unrealistic to have the view that love triumphs all,” His voice appears more gravelly than usual, and the lump in Louis’ throat grows exponentially. “But it’s fine. Maybe I read too much literature. Sometimes I feel like my life is one big Shakespearian tragedy,”

This is the response that kicks Louis’ fight or flight response into gear. He does a sharp intake of air and nods slowly as his brain registers his words. What the hell is he supposed to reply with? His mind desperately searches for any response, sarcastic or not. He needs to say something quick or else the silence is going to be the end of him.

“What Shakespearian tragedy fits your life the best then Mister Styles?” Louis tries to relax his body, but it doesn’t do anything. His whole being tenses and he holds his breath as he observes Harry contemplate his response. Harry purses his lips, cocking his head to the side thinking deeply to himself.

“My life doesn’t match the plot, but it’s more like two people can’t be together but they’re in love,” Harry speaks so softly that Louis isn’t sure he’s hearing it correctly at first. Except when he hears the wavering of Harry’s voice at the end, he knows he’s heard it correctly.

“But you’re with your girlfriend? Oh…your parents don’t want you together?” Louis frowns, thinking deeply as he speaks until his eyes widen with realisation. Harry blinks at Louis’ response, but his face remains unchanged, just a blank canvas.

“Something like that,” Harry holds Louis’ gaze, neither of them refusing to break contact. Both radiating stubbornness that leaves Louis’ skin prickling with angst. Even from across the room Louis can see the dullness of Harry’s iris’ and the sadness that swims through them. His body instinctively shifts as if it wants to move towards the boy, but Louis shifts his attention back to the television. Shit.

“So, End of The Fucking World?” Louis loudly clears his throat, trying to divert the attention and break the rising awkward tension. Each time Louis blinks, his vision is violated by the faded emerald colour that belongs to Harry.

Louis wasn’t getting under Harry’s skin; it was the total opposite. Harry had somehow injected himself directly into Louis’ veins, and the thought of his was pulsing through his bloodstream rapidly, completely overhauling everything that Louis thought he knew. There was no escaping him anymore. All Louis could do was get comfortable with it, and not play with fire. He can’t approach this like he’s the psychologist because it would be detrimental for him in the end.

“We could watch a bit. But I have a feeling we’ve got something else to do this afternoon,” Harry looks towards the kitchen bench, and Louis follows his gaze until his eyes fall on another envelope. Screw those envelopes. “Do you want me to read it? I wonder what they’ll have us do today.”

“I’m up for anything that doesn’t involve yoga. I’m already fed up with sunrise vinyasa,” Louis chuckles. “And look at me go; I’m learning the terminology for different yoga’s. My IQ is rising each day,”

“Congratulations. But it’s still not that impressive. Talk to me when you can recite Hamlet’s soliloquy. Then I might actually reconsider,” Harry chuckles as he pushes himself off the couch and quickly walks to the bench. Louis pretends not to witness the flex of Harry’s biceps and the protruding veins that cause his head to spin for a second. He doesn’t even understand what is happening anymore. Nothing is making sense in his brain and he can’t keep up with the abrupt ups and downs.

“I can actually recite it, you know?” Louis shoots back, trying to suppress a nervous laugh. Harry stops reading the note for a few seconds, eyes suddenly staring at Louis through those thick dark lashes and Louis notices his eyebrows arch. It’s a definite challenge. “Alright. You don’t believe me?”

“Not in the slightest. You’re a psychology major, not an English literature major. You don’t need to pretend that you’re knowledgeable in that field. You’re better off sticking to your brain studies, I’m sure you could recite half of the academic journals by now,” Harry returns his attention back to the note, lips slightly turning up in the corners which ignite a fire deep in Louis’ soul.

“To be, or not to be? That is the question. Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing them. To die, to sleep. No more; and by a sleep to say we end. The heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to. Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream, aye, there’s the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off his mortal coil. Must have us pause…there’s the respect that makes calamity of so long life.” Louis says clearly, matter-of-factly and it’s enough for Harry to place the envelope back on the bench and stare at Louis with widened eyes and parted lips. “Do you need more, or is that enough for you to realise I might actually know a thing or two?”

“I didn’t think you would actually know it,” Harry’s quiet, and it’s that type of quiet that Louis knows that it’s probably embarrassed Harry and to be quite fair it’s deserved. He should be embarrassed making others feel less intelligent. “Do you know the meaning of it?” He asks, staring at the floor and once again fidgeting with the rings on his finger. Louis watches as he turns them back and forth, eyebrows furrowed and gaze completely focused on them as they glisten.

“Well, the good thing about literature everyone can interpret the way they want. But, from my own studies and understanding, I believe it’s about how horrifically miserable and painful human life is. And that death is a preferable option than living, but the fear of the uncertainty of the afterlife prevents him from doing the deed.” Louis forces himself off the couch next, stretching his limbs and yawning briefly. Harry doesn’t respond again, and Louis feels extremely smug right about now. In fact, Harry just stares at his feet and hair falls limply over his face in shame. “It’s actually a really good piece to study regarding the human brain and how we process depression and suicidal ideations. It’s dark but interesting,”

“Yeah. I suppose you’re right,” Harry mumbles as Louis reaches his side at the bench. Louis doesn’t make it much further into reading the letter when Harry looks up from the tiles, expression completely unreadable. Louis briefly looks up and feels the overwhelming urge to pull the man across from him into a hug. And he also immediately regrets being such a smart ass.

“I’m sorry if you thought I was doubting your intelligence. I wasn’t really. You graduated with a degree…that’s something I could never do. You are intelligent but I just didn’t really pin you for a classic literature type,” Harry stumbles over himself, and Louis although feeling bad, also feels exponentially proud of himself. Mostly because no one was ever going to make him feel unintelligent.

“You should never judge a book by its cover, young Harold,”

“It’s Harry, and I’m not that young,” Harry frowns. “You can’t make smart comments about age…you’re like 30,”.

Louis clenches his jaw and continues reading, focusing on not hurling a slew of horrible profanities at Harry. And as the words sink in, he realises he’s doing something that is probably even worse than fucking yoga. At least yoga you’re not running around like a lunatic.

“Hiking? They want us to be hiking buddies?” Louis slams the letter down, voice raised in pain as he groans. “I will absolutely not hike. And for your information, I’m not 30. I’m offended,”

“I didn’t even get that far into reading before you decided to be possessed by literature demons,” Harry mutters as he snatches the note, eyes quickly darting across the message. Louis becomes alert to the sudden closeness of Harry’s body and the heat that radiates off him. It fills Louis’ whole personal space, heating every millimetre of skin in proximity, radiating that same energy that Louis keeps picking up on. But he can’t get lost in it right now.

“Literature demons,” Louis replies, shaking his head and softly chuckling to himself as he takes a slight step away. He finds himself staring out the kitchen window, watching the leaves on the trees sway in the ocean breeze. He tries his best to focus on anything but Harry, but his brain is still clinging to the memory of the closeness of Harry’s skin and the addicting warmth. Louis swallows and grinds his teeth, blinking a few times before Harry speaks again.

“Okay. So, a sunset hike up to the summit of a mountain,”

“No way. No way in hell,” Louis’ voice raises a few octaves, and he can feel the veins in his neck protruding as he tenses. Harry’s eyes flicker from the note and towards Louis, and there’s a brief emotion that washes over his face. It’s brief and Louis is sure he was imagining it, but the shift in the energy, even for a second, proves it.

“It won’t be that bad. Stretch out those legs, you must be stiff from sitting on the couch all day,”

“I literally did yoga this morning. I’ve done it every day for the last like 4 days or whatever. I’m anything but stiff. I don’t think my legs are capable of carrying my body uphill for that long,” Louis groans, leaning into the bench and pressing his face into the palms of his hands. His body was only just growing accustomed to the yoga and he still ached. Although the aching was decreasing each day.

“Stop being dramatic. What if I offered something…it might persuade you?”

Louis’ whole body seizes up, face still in his palms and blood threatening to turn into icicles. Louis lifts his head cautiously, eyes instantly meeting Harry’s. His eyes dart all over his face searching for any sign that he’s joking but the only thing he notices is the lack of emotion that Harry still has. The saliva in Louis’ mouth almost instantly evaporates, tongue suddenly feeling like sandpaper. He tries his best to keep his composure because he doesn’t want Harry to even have an inkling of what he’s feeling.

“What? What are you bribing me with?” Louis doesn’t have the faintest idea where to look now, so instead remains observing Harry until he gets a response. Harry doesn’t reply straight away and instead fidgets and picks at the bottom of his shirt, face looking slightly uncomfortable. He looks almost pained, and Louis decides to just say forget about it but he doesn’t get the chance.

“I’ll play you a little extract to one of my songs. You might be able to give me some constructive criticism. Since I can’t really talk with the label here,”

Harry doesn’t need to say a word more. Louis knows for a fact that whatever Harry’s written would be a direct insight into his feelings, thoughts, and experiences. This is the perfect opportunity to gain a better understanding of who he is. Except it’s also a very private thing, and he isn’t sure whether this is crossing some type of boundary. He’s never felt this fucking conflicted in his whole life. It’s like hitting the pot of gold, but it’s as if he’s reading a private diary to get there.

“Are you sure…isn’t that like private?”

“If it was private why would I be intending to release it? I need someone’s opinion on the quality otherwise no one will listen,” Harry’s brows furrow, and he stops chewing on his now reddened lips. Louis’ gaze doesn’t stray from the eye-contact he’s now holding, desperate to figure out what Harry is thinking but nothing comes. It also doesn’t help that Harry doesn’t hold the contact, instead, he shifts his gaze back towards the envelope on the bench.

“Okay fine. I’ll go hiking but I expect a masterpiece once I get home,”

As soon as Louis dramatically sighs and responds, Harry’s face instantly lights up. There’s an instant surge of brightness in his eyes that was absent previously, and there was no escaping those crater-sized dimples either. It’s been almost a week, and it’s probably the second or third time that Louis has seen genuine happiness radiating from Harry. He despises exercise, truly. His yoga skills were already horrific, and now he’s going to embarrass himself all over again but for some reason, he’s alright with it.

“Did you want to watch some television for a bit? We have a couple of hours before we need to head out.” Harry’s entire demeanour has changed yet again, a stark contrast to this emptiness just a few minutes earlier. This time he’s radiating enthusiasm and literal rays of sunshine. “We could watch that show?”

“What show? Haunting of Hill House?”

“Yeah. If we’re going to hike, you should at least get to do something you want to do. Try and make you feel a little less shitty. If you’re in a good mood beforehand, you might not complain as much,”

“I don’t complain,” Louis frowns, to which Harry chuckles. He literally chuckles and it’s a sound that makes Louis feel like the earth was just pulled out from beneath his feet. It’s bizarre but he tries his best to keep his composure. It seems that’s all he does these days.

“I’m afraid you do, like a lot,” Harry grins, and Louis decides he’s had enough. So, he playfully kicks Harry’s shin. “Hey! What was that for?! That hurt!”

Louis has already started to move back towards the couch and even though he can’t see Harry’s face, he can sense the playfulness in his voice. Louis shrugs, moving a little faster. He still manages to hear Harry mutter something under his breath, so he looks over his shoulder. “Who’s complaining now?”

“You’re a jack-ass, you know that right?”

“So I’ve been told,”

The next few hours Louis and Harry find themselves completely immersed in the show, and the entire time Louis remains partially hidden under his blanket. And there wasn’t much difference with Harry either; who placed a pillow in front of him and peaked whenever he was game enough. It was the most harmonious a single interaction between the two had gone. In fact, the essence of time had completely escaped their train of thought and instead, they laughed, screamed, and discussed plots together as if they were best friends. It was quite comforting. Louis had always been the social butterfly, even from as young as a toddler so being this far away from his best friends and support systems was a whole new world for him. This whole week he desperately wanted to make a call home and speak with whoever was willing to listen. He knew without a doubt that Niall would spend hours on the phone, and as much as Louis hated him for this, he also missed the shit out of him. Louis had spent countless amount of time wondering what the lad had been up to. He just knew that Niall would be boarding himself up at home, slaving away at his job and ruining his health just a little bit more with his unhealthy coping mechanisms. God. He missed him, so fucking much. And for the first time this week, Louis wasn’t thinking about home life or Eleanor. In fact, he was just stuck in the moment enjoying himself. And it stayed that way until Harry states the time and they frantically find the right attire for the hike. And that was one thing Louis most definitely wasn’t going to enjoy.

-

“Do you think you could slow down for a sec, yeah?” Louis squints up towards Harry’s lean figure ahead. Harry takes one step forward and then slowly turns his head; forehead glistening with a sheer layer of sweat.

It’s almost offensive at how angular Harry’s jaw is from where Louis is standing. Louis hadn’t really taken in the full beauty of it since Harry’s face was always framed by a curtain of ringlets. This time, however, they’re tightly pulled back into a man-bun. Because yeah, he’s a stylish hipster and lectured Louis that man-buns are a totally valid fashion trend for half an hour.

“Do you think you could just walk a little faster?” Harry yells back, his voice is slightly strained. Louis recognises the out of breath panting, and his eyes widen. He’s actually struggling. Shock horror.

“We’ve been on a steady incline for the last…what? Kilometre?” Louis huffs, remaining frozen and slightly hunched over, his body desperately trying to recover and failing miserably. The insides of Louis’ oesophagus burn like depths of hell, stinging and causing immense grief. No one should hike, it’s actually torture. Who does this for fun?

“If you can’t walk a slight incline for a kilometre you have to really reconsider your health,” Harry’s brows pull together slightly, and then he turns towards the path and starts to move again. There is zero hesitation which ignites a flicker of rage deep in Louis’ stomach because this man has zero compassion whatsoever.

“I’m well aware I’m not in great nick. This place has really highlighted that. So, can you just slow down?” Louis challenges his own body, forcing his aching legs forward with extra force. He’s going to reach that curly-haired cunt and kick him in the shin. That’s probably as far as his legs could reach at this moment. Harry doesn’t say a single word in return, instead just grips the straps of his backpack tightly, frowning and eyes trained on the top of the hill. Louis could scream, he really could.

The only upside to this whole experience is that the sun is beginning to set, and Louis is determined to watch the beauty of it from the summit. But with the way his whole body is buckling, he’s starting to second guess his ability to make it in time. But Louis will not have the Gucci king beat him at something so trivial, because for god’s sake, he can’t lose to him again. And that’s when the idea strikes, and Louis has to suppress the laughter as he pretends to fall.

“Harold!”

At this moment, Louis has never been so thankful for those drama classes he took in his youth because he’s honing every acting skill he knows. He dramatically hits the pavement beneath him, letting out an ‘oomph’ and inhales deeply. His body automatically thanks him for this, because it takes immense stress off his legs, and suddenly oxygen has never felt so good.

“Harry! I’ve screwed my ankle!” Louis hollers again, tightly gripping his ankle and scrunching his face in fake agony. He doesn’t even look up towards Harry, because he’s manifesting an oscar-winning performance.

There are about 15 seconds that pass before he hears Harry’s fastened footsteps descend back in Louis’ direction and they’re moving fast. Before Louis can even open his mouth or see Harry in his line of vision, he is suddenly aware of Harry’s presence and the warmth that radiates off him. He can feel his warmth to his side, and then he feels Harry’s hands gentle grip his ankle.

“You can’t do anything right, can you?” Harry mumbles to himself, fingers gently palpating the skin around Louis’ ankle. Louis narrows his eyes, hisses in fake agony and flinches his ankle away from Harry’s touch. Academy Award-winning acting right here.

“I said, to slow down. What more do you want me to do?” Louis takes deep calculated breaths, blissfully soaking in the oxygen that his aching lungs yearn for. He’s conserving every drop because once he finally makes a break for the summit he’ll need it. It won’t take much for Harry to catch up, in fact, it’s going to be easy. He’s got the legs of a giraffe for fuck sake, and all Louis was gifted with was short stumps. Not to mention the difference in fitness levels, Louis is out of breath just by walking to the fridge half the time. There really wasn’t a hope in hell that Louis could do this, but he was going to try anyway.

“I want you to not be a total dickhead and stop trying to think you can keep up with me,”

“I wanted to see the sunset! I wasn’t expecting to break my damn ankle,”

Louis tries his hardest to keep his façade up, desperate to not let Harry clue on. This time Harry doesn’t even respond to Louis’ fake cry and instead, his face remains stone-cold serious. Louis can’t help but stare in wonderment. He silently takes in the beauty of Harry’s alabaster skin glowing under the now setting sun, lips slightly parted as he too struggles to catch his breath. The sheer layer of his sweat glistens, making him appear more ethereal than ever. In this moment, and for the first time this week, there appears to be no guards up on Harry’s behalf. Louis feels the warmth of Harry’s fingertips gently brushing against his skin, softly pressing into the bone of his ankle. The very second Harry’s fingers disconnect from his skin, Louis is sure he’ll feel those prints burning into his flesh for the next week.

“It’s not broken, I can sense that much. It’s not swelling up yet or bruising. What did you even do?” Harry’s jaded eyes cast a concerned gaze over Louis’ ankle again, eyes darting back and forth waiting for a sign of swelling. Louis keeps taking deep breaths, relishing in the way his muscles are no longer crying in agony. He notices Harry’s tongue quickly dart across his pinkened lips, allowing it to equally glisten under the suns remaining beaming light.

“I was trying to walk faster, and then I think I rolled my ankle or something. It happened too fast to really take notice but all I know is that it hurts like shit,”

“Well. We can’t really do any first aid up here, can we? So, we will have to head back and get you bandaged up. We can try the sunset again tomorrow,”

Louis needs to make his break right now, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to do it, but he’ll try it anyway. He looks back up towards the mountain, mentally calculating the sprinting distance before he gets to the top. It’s somewhere between 100 and 200 meters. It’s enough for his stomach to twist in a nauseating knot and he can feel his muscles already locking up in refusal, but he won’t back down. He just needs to win this once, to prove a point to himself. There is nothing more powerful than the human mind, and Louis does know that much.

“Do you think you could help me up?” Louis holds a handout, eyes slipping from the summit back to Harry who’s still kneeling beside him. He also becomes immediately aware of how heavy Harry is breathing and can see the quick rise and fall of his broadened shoulders. “You know you shouldn’t push yourself. You’re asthmatic after all,”

“It’s not like I don’t bring my puffer with me. I’m not that incompetent,” Harry shoots back but doesn’t bother looking at Louis as shifts his bag until it lands in front of him with a loud thud. What in the hell does he carry in that thing?

“Okay Mary Poppins, what do you have hiding in your goody bag?”

“I’m not Mary Poppins,” Harry glares for a moment then refocuses his attention on the bag as his shaky hands search through his belongings. There are a few more moments that pass before Harry lifts the Ventolin out from his bag, smiling like a kid at a candy store. “I’m just Harry Styles. And wouldn’t you like to know what’s in my goody bag,”

The response, although smart ass, sounds ridiculously sexual at the same time. It’s enough for Louis to feel as though a bucket of ice-cold water has been poured straight over his head, instantly causing icicles in every nerve ending. The air that fills his lungs escapes in a sharp exhale and finds himself blinking till he’s grounded back to earth again. It feels like minutes but in reality, it’s not even five seconds that passes.

“Well, I did ask Harold,” He forces a smile, shaking off the suddenly rising internal tension. Harry doesn’t hesitate to bring the Ventolin to his lips, and Louis finds himself staring at those same godforsaken eyes that bore into the deepest corners of his soul. It’s as if Harry can see straight through him and is discovering corners of his soul that not even Louis knew existed.

Louis doesn’t know how to react to the situation, but he does see the perfect window of opportunity. Harry’s the perfect unsuspecting victim, and if Louis shoves him in the right way he’ll topple over and knock over his mystery bag in the process. He takes 3 deep breaths, allowing the oxygen to reach every corner of his weak lungs and counts down in his head. He watches Harry take the first puff and Louis mentally prepares for it. He continues clutching the area around his ankle until he hears Harry take the second puff and then he lunges.

“What the-“ Harry starts, but is immediately cut off as he lands against the uneven gravel with a harsh thud. His eyes widen in shock, as he witnesses his bag fall over and his belonging scatter. “You son of a-,”

There’s an instantaneous surge of adrenaline that takes over Louis’ body. He witnesses the curly-haired boys face suddenly switch from playful to dreadful anger that instantly kicks Louis’ fight or flight response into gear. He doesn’t stay for a second longer, instead, he forces his legs to move now. He doesn’t even have to focus on it, and the burning ache of his muscles are now a distant memory. The adrenaline has taken over completely, surging through his veins and making this whole process easier than expected. The distance itself isn’t the worst thing in the world, it’s just like one of those races at the carnivals in high school. It’s as if they were all practices for this exact moment. The only thing that is bringing fear directly into Louis’ being is the thought that Harry is right behind him, which only makes Louis dig deeper and his body keeps pushing further and further. He doesn’t even bother looking over his shoulder because he’s certain Harry’s probably closing the gap already and Louis is about to be pummelled. He uses every last bit of strength in his body to force his legs up the last final meters, desperately gasping for air and sweat physically dripping off his forehead. He feels incredibly disgusting, and to be honest he isn’t that proud of what he did. But he’ll take the victory anyway.

So with those last few steps, Louis steps onto the flattened ground of the top, and he desperately inhales while hunching over. He can’t help but feel the nauseating twisting of his stomach and his mouth fills with saliva. It’s that disgusting feeling pre-vomit that overcomes him but he desperately tries to distract himself from it. He stands up, resting his arms behind his head to stretch out his lungs and he looks out at the sunset.

It is quite possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever witnessed in his life. The whole sky is a hue of golden rays of light that illuminate Louis at the very spot he’s standing in. Except he doesn’t get to stand for long because his knees genuinely give out and he silently falls to his knees, staring in awe at the beauty in front of him.

“I made it,” He huffs, smiling to himself. The feeling of achievement is overwhelming, and the smile turns into a chuckle as he accepts the fact he won.

He gives himself a few more moments to bask in the glory before turning his attention back towards the direction of Harry. He’s half-expecting Harry to already be next to him and a fist to fly into his jaw when he turns around, but alas he isn’t. It comes as a complete surprise when Harry is walking up the hill, bag back on his shoulders and gaze locked on Louis. Each step is calculated, and there’s a brute force behind each of them and Louis can sense the anger that pulsates from his being. It’s only another 30 or so seconds before Harry’s finally in earshot so Louis speaks quickly.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to win at something,”

“It doesn’t count if you cheat,” Harry’s voice is laced with an uncomfortable amount of anger that slices its way through Louis’ heart and the joy he was just feeling. Louis’ smile falters and he wipes his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt to rid himself of the sweat.

“It wasn’t cheating. I ran up the hill with my own legs,” Louis tries to shoot back, but it’s a useless argument. He definitely did cheat, but he wasn’t going to admit it out loud.

“Yeah, by taking out your opponent in an unfair tackle. You faked an injury. That’s cheating,” Harry doesn’t even bother looking at Louis now, instead, he stares out at the sunset with a guarded expression and Louis monitors the way Harry’s chest rises and falls.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware there was a rulebook on hiking a mountain. Show me the manual!”

“We managed to get up here to witness the sunset,” Harry says softly, all traces of annoyance or rage has instantly dissipated which gives Louis immediately whiplash. It doesn’t last longer than a second though. “You can watch the sunset alone. I’m heading back to the villa. Take your time. Don’t fall and break your leg on the way down…or do. I’m not here to help you this time,”

Louis can’t find the words as Harry starts to move back towards the hill, eyes quickly scanning Louis who is attempting to stand. Louis feels his legs buckle as he forces himself up, and he holds a hand out to steady himself but eventually, he’s fine. Harry takes a total of 5 steps down the hill before Louis panics.

“Stay. Stay and watch the sunset. I’m sorry that I did that, it wasn’t fair. I could have hurt you badly and that wasn’t my intention at all. I’m selfish, I know. I just wanted to feel good about winning something for fucking once, okay?”

Harry does stop walking at this point, and Louis isn’t sure whether it’s the words or the actual sheer desperation that is being projected in his voice. He’s a mess and doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. Louis watches as Harry turns around, and effortlessly swings his bag and throws it so it lands on the summit with a thud. Louis looks between the bag and then Harry again, who looks like a canvas straight out of the renaissance.

“I think this may be the first time you’ve apologised and actually sounded genuine. The character growth this week has been exceptional,” Harry says flatly, and then turns back towards Louis and steps back onto the flat ground. Louis doesn’t know what to say or do, but suddenly Harry’s standing right next to him. Louis physically feels his arm brushing against him. There’s a whole-ass summit but he just has to stand that close. “You kept your side of the deal. You might have played dirty, but you did the hike and that’s what matters. So… Do you think you could just stay quiet for a minute?”

Louis slightly turns his head, gaze moving from the sunset and up towards where Harry’s towering body stands next to him. He frowns, completely confused. He can tell that Harry is aware of the gaze on him by the way he anxiously swallows but his gaze remains fixated on the horizon in front of them.

“I don’t understand,” Louis speaks, but it comes out so quietly that it takes him by surprise.

“Don’t speak. Just listen,”

Louis notices Harry’s eyes slightly flicker in Louis’ direction, so he swallows thickly and nods carefully. Harry’s arm is still faintly brushing against his own, and he can feel the stickiness of his sweat but neither of them moves. Louis can barely think straight, but he’s suddenly aware of Harry’s deep breathing. He’s confused. And then it happens. The voice that comes out of Harry’s mouth is the most soothing, melodious, and broken sound Louis has ever heard in his entire life. It’s as if Louis is physically catapulted into the realms of space because he feels his heart drop and he feels like he’s astral projecting. The words wrap around him like velvet, brushing against all the damaged parts of his soul and causing his eyes to well up in tears. It’s the only voice in the world that makes him feel _seen_.

_“_ _Don't blame me for fallin'_ _, I was just a little boy. Don't blame the drunk caller…Wasn't ready for it all. You can't blame me, darling. Not even a little bit. I was away, and I'm just an arrogant son of a bitch, who can't admit when he's sorry,”_


	11. Can't Admit When He's Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I disappeared for a little while there. I apologise. I've had this sitting around for a while but thought I should finally release it into the world.

The sound of Harry's voice slowly wraps around Louis, brushing against his damaged soul in a vice tight grip. Although Louis felt physically restrained and unable to move, there was no pain. He felt as if he was completely encased in fine silk, which renders him completely breathless. He finds himself blinking through the haze of his mind as the symphony brushes against all of Louis' ragged edges, whispering words that Louis' conscious couldn't pick up on. The whole ordeal is over before it really began, and Harry's voice is replaced with a static silence. Louis doesn't dare speak, in fact, he's certain his voice box is broken. His vision is blurred and his head spins as he slowly comes back to reality.

"You inspired that one, you know?" Harry's ragged voice breaks the silence, and it's like a lightning strike inside Louis' nerve endings. He inhales deeply, blinking and turning towards Harry's silhouette by his side. "If you could name it, what would you call it?"

Louis frowns, head still spinning as he tries to bring himself back to earth. He hesitates for a moment, letting Harry's words sink in before he finds the right words. "You don't know a thing about me, so how can you say I inspired it?" Louis notices that Harry half smiles to himself, looking down at his feet and a slight outline of his dimple appears.

"You don't have to tell me much for inspiration to strike Louis. You were young when you met her, you didn't know anything about what life was going to be, what was going to happen as you got older. You were young, naïve. You fell for Eleanor. And, I think you like to drink too much. You're not ready to commit. I can tell that much. That's exactly how you got into this mess. And for the last bit. I just know you're an arrogant son of a-,"

"Hey. I'm not arrogant," Louis interjects, his back straightening and jaw clenching as he locks eyes with the man next to him. His eyes twinkle with amusement which aggravates Louis to no end. "And I do apologise,"

"You can't admit when you're sorry. It's like pulling teeth. Damn near impossible. That apology just before when you thought I was going to leave? That is the sincerest thing that has left your mouth this whole stay so far,"

"Okay fine, so is this another one of your secret talents? You're a psychic that can read people and their whole life when you meet them? Can you read thoughts too?" Louis' eyes widen and he tries his best to bite back laughter as he speaks again. "Are you...Edward Cullen? What am I thinking right now?"

Louis doesn't even get the chance to make another joke, because Harry suddenly shoves his shoulder causing him to stumble back a few steps. "You could have just asked me to stop," He chuckles, watching as Harry gently shakes his head and eyes fall back on the sunset. "It's a nice sunset though, they got that right,"

"I've seen better suns," Harry says without hesitation, face a blank canvas once again. Louis feels as if he just experienced 6 different emotions from the man at once, and it makes his head hurt.

Louis hesitantly walks back to Harry's side, mindful to keep the distance between them and not have their sticky arms brushing like previously. "I hate to break it to you, Styles. But there is only one sun in our solar system,"

"I respectfully disagree," Harry peels his eyes away from the golden and pink sky, and they land on Louis once again. Louis feels miniscule suddenly, Harry's gaze burning deeply into his soul. "I've seen suns that mistake themselves for dying stars,"

And without another word, Harry reaches down to his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He gives the view of the mountains and receding sun one last glance, before turning towards the downhill track. "You coming? or are you planning on hiking back down in the middle of the night?"

_Suns that mistake themselves for dying stars._

Louis' mouth is sandpaper dry now, head whirring with too many overwhelming emotions so he decides to just silently follow for a while. He looks over his shoulder at the sight one last time, mentally making a promise to come back up here again. Harry's singing is still etched in his brain and free flowing through his veins like some type of infection. He desperately wants to ask for more because a couple sentences weren't enough. The first half of the hike back towards the villa is in complete silence, besides the sound of both huffing to themselves and the sound of gravel crunching beneath their shoes. Louis spends the entirety coming up with ways to stop the silence, and to get a conversation going but it ends up being useless. It's all garbage, and to his mortification his mouth completely detaches from his brain and speaks anyway.

"Have you written much else?" His voice sounds foreign, even to himself. It's almost as if it's someone else speaking for him, especially when he felt as if he had no control over the question I the first place.

Harry doesn't flinch and doesn't move his gaze from the gravel in front of him. Louis watches a bead of sweat slowly drip down his temple, skin glowing under the receding sunlight. He holds his breath waiting for the response, hopeful but also expecting nothing at the same time.

"I've written...like a few sentences here and there. I don't exactly have a full song yet. I wrote one on the outside world, it wasn't my best work but it's my first piece,"

_Is that where you disappear to during the day? To write?_

Louis almost asks it, but there's this feeling that he's intruding too much so he swallows the question down and stays silent. If Harry wants to speak about it, he will. There's uncomfortable silence for a while, and it might be purely for the fact that it's so unbelievably hot that they're both dripping in their own sweat, or they're just awkward with each other. It could even be a fair mixture of both. He's pulled out of his thoughts once again, when Harry speaks.

"We're almost there. Who gets to shower first? I mean... there's an outside shower so I guess one of us could take that. I could. I sleep outside, it makes sense,"

There's a sense of awkward rambling, but Louis is far too gone in his own head to pick up on Harry's awkwardness. Louis' brain is scouring for ways to converse with Harry, know more about him but without being too in-your-face about it.

"Why do you sleep outside? There's a couch," Louis asks abruptly, and he makes a mental note to slap himself later. Who does he think he is? He slightly winces at his own question but quickly recovers, careful to not let Harry witness it.

"Well, that's a good question you have there. I like the breeze, but also, I'm giving you as much personal space as possible. No offence, but you've been a grinch about this whole thing and I'm not about to have you attack me for choosing to sleep on the couch. Less drama,"

Louis is completely taken aback for a moment, eyes wide and lips parted as the words hit him like a freight train. He continues following Harry's steps down the hill, the villa getting closer with each step. He chews on his bottom lip, mentally formulating his response.

"I might be mean, but I'm not that much of a dickhead to say you can't sleep on the couch. You could catch a cold out there. And I'm not about to catch an illness while I'm here,"

"You're worried about catching an illness, but you're willing to basically drown to death in the middle of the night out in the ocean? Where the water, is in fact, cold," Harry chuckles to himself, the laughter melts like butter, and soothes like honey. Louis feels weakness in places he didn't know weakness could manifest. He tries his best to pull the breaks, right here and right now.

"I was highly intoxicated. So that argument is irrelevant. Moral of the story...Sleep on the couch. I'm not going to throw a tantrum about it,"

"Intoxicated or not, there was still a part of you that thought it was a good idea. I might just have a quick rinse off while you shower and when you're finished then I'll take over the bathroom. If that's okay with you?"

"We share a bathroom Harry. You don't even need to ask for permission. Am I that scary?"

"No, but I think you like to think you are," Harry says sheepishly, a wolfish grin appearing, both dimples also out on display. It's enough for Louis to also smile. It's been a week of bickering, arguing and awkward silence but, finally, there seems to be some progress. They don't have to be friends, but they've learnt to tolerate each other. "I think I figured out what I want to name that song, the one that I sang up there," Harry tilts his head back up towards the summit they just walked down from.

Louis looks back up the hill, eyes half blurred and heart suddenly thundering against his ribcage. He holds his breath, waiting for Harry to continue but he doesn't. Harry just smiles to himself, deep in thought as he stares up ahead. The villa is only a few feet away; to which Louis is secretly relieved because he wants to wash away all the sweat that sticks to his clothes and lay in bed in silence for a few hours.

"You going to tell me, or what?" Louis asks carefully, eyebrows furrowing. He begins to anxiously fidget with the straps his bag, chest burning and fingers shaking ever-so-slightly.

The sun has almost completely disappeared by this point, allowing the temperature to drop considerably. Not enough for it to be cold, but enough that sweat stops prickling at any given second and now the ocean breeze allows for a cooling effect. Both Louis and Harry round the corner of the villa, back entry now in full sight. Louis does his best to focus on slowing down the increasing speed of his heart rate, as anxiety starts to trickle in with more force. He swears if Harry doesn't speak he might combust.

"I might," Harry shrugs, not showing any sign of relenting and giving Louis a clue about it. "Once I put it together. It's just an idea for now, but If I think it fits the final product, I'll let you know,"

"I'll take it as quite an accomplishment to make it onto your album," Louis says softly, as they both take their shoes off outside the back door. Their bags both resting against the villa's wooden slates. "That's if it makes it onto the album. It'd be cool to hear it on the radio one day,"

"If I ever make it to the radio, that is," Harry huffs, kicking his shoes slightly to the side. For the first time in a while, he's looking worn out. It's expected though, no one does yoga every single day and hike mountains for a living. Do they? If so, get some help. That's all Louis has to say about that.

"Don't doubt yourself. You have a really nice voice," Louis says without a second of hesitation, and instantly bites his tongue as it leaves his mouth. He silently winces at the pain, but Harry doesn't notice. Instead, his eyebrows shoot upwards, his forehead wrinkling in surprise as his lips part slightly. There's a brief glimmer in his eyes that causes Louis to suck in a shaky breath.

"Is that...Is that a compliment?" Harry stammers, faking shock. Louis' lips press into a flat line and he glares until Harry shrugs. "Sorry. I'll take it. Thank you. I just sometimes wonder if I'm even good at it,"

"You're great, don't put yourself down and don't doubt yourself. The second you start to think you can't, you put yourself at a disadvantage,"

Harry's eyes glisten, with an emotion that Louis can't quite put his finger on but he stares back until Harry looks away. "You're going to hit me with your psychologist speeches now?"

"It isn't a psychologist speech. It's something I'll tell anyone, regardless of my profession. Everyone has the capability of doing whatever they want to do. The only thing that holds them back is their mind. The greats of our time, did it because they wanted to. You want to reach for the stars? Get on your tippy toes and reach damnit," Louis mumbles, turning back towards the back door and opening it swiftly. He doesn't usually get this invested into these conversations. It's usually the same monotonous things, a constant repeat, but for some reason he wants Harry to actually listen.

He doesn't wait around for Harry's response, instead finds himself walking towards his room. He locks the door behind him, instantly stripping off his sweat soaked clothing and throwing them into his designated laundry basket. The feeling of the bathroom tiles sends a cold shiver straight up his spine and his shaking hands reach for the faucet. These are movements that don't require a second of thought. But he's desperate to let his mind go numb, even just for a few moments. Soon enough, as the water reaches the heat he desires, he steps under. It instantly pours over him, dripping down his sides, heat working at relieving the aching tension in his muscles, and his mind fades into dullness. The sensation of the warmth and the steam instantly calms him, his brain instantly disassociating from the millions of thoughts that swarm it.

Louis knows that this feeling won't last forever, and that soon enough he'll have to step back out into reality. But for now, he'll relish in the peace. He focuses on using the soap to wash away the sweat and dirt from the day, mind completely numb to the rest of the world. In the corner of his brain though, there's a lingering thought about Eleanor. It's enough for him to take a deep, shaky breath. She hadn't crossed his mind today, and that's enough for him to feel sudden waves of guilt.

The wave of guilt, however, is quickly replaced with a sense of panic. He feels it start like a cluster of spark plugs deep in his abdomen, tension immediately growing in his limbs, shoulders and face. His brain instantly replaying the last attack he felt, breathing becoming more rapid, shallower. It initially starts out as thin as cellophane, something that Louis can instantly pierce his fingers through to make breathing holes. But in the next second, the wave is a deluge of freezing water, encasing every limb, rising higher until it passes his mouth and nose. That's when it becomes absolute. His whole body shutting down as if he'd punched a biochemical reset.

In a form of self-punishment, Louis turns the heat up again, allowing the stinging feeling to take his breath away and he slowly exhales until his skin grows accustom to it and he feels numb. He knows he's burning but it's the only way he can escape it. Escape that feeling of being unable to breathe, suffocating on his own thoughts. And just as fast as the thought entered his brain, it's gone again. And Louis finds himself shutting off the water, desperately gasping for air as the stinging immediately stops.

The inner psychologist is screaming at him, telling him that is not the way to behave during a panic attack, and that self-harm is not going to help him. He knows this, he knows how to work through panic but in that moment, he saw no way out. It's not like he has a phone to call Niall, it's not like he can get in his car and drive to his best friend, or even fucking hug El-.

He shuts that thought off before he finishes it. He's not going to even think of it.

He steps out of the shower, billows of steam circling around him, encasing him in his own bubble as he reaches towards his towel and runs it over his face. He does his best to settle the shaking, because if he has to walk out and make dinner he can't be like this. He just knows Harry will pick up on it. And he's not about to explain to Harry Styles that he has panic attacks. He can already hear the jokes.

_'Louis Tomlinson, the psychologist, has panic attacks that he can't control?'_

_'I thought that's what your degree was for Einstein?'_

As Louis buries his face in the towel, he lets out a painful noise. It's the only way he can let out even a slight bit of his feelings. It's prolonged, but quiet enough that he knows that Harry won't hear it. It helps though, slightly. He stays hunched over the bathroom counter for a good minute, taking slow shaking breaths until he feels partially normal again. Normal enough to fake being fine. Once he finally gets a grip on himself, he sprays himself with deodorant and changes into his pyjamas. He makes a conscious effort to keep the bathroom relatively clean, cause he knows Harry will be in there too soon. He spends one last minute, desperately clinging to sanity and letting the waves of panic dissipate as he sits on the foot of his bed. He looks to the ceiling, sending a silent prayer to the man above.

"I'll speak out loud because clearly you can't read minds. Make it stop please. I'm suffering enough. I know I fucked it all up, but I'm trying. I know I'm a jerk, but just give me peace. Let me get through this." He whispers, scrunching his eyes shut. Desperately fighting off the burning sensation behind his eyelids. He won't cry. This isn't going to be the thing that makes him cry.

"Please. I swear I'm trying. I can't keep feeling like this. It's constantly. I'm supposed to be the one with my shit together and the longer I'm here, I'm unravelling. What are you wanting from me? Is this one giant test to you?" His voice wavers, lips quivering as he blinks back the tears. He refuses to let a tear fall. He's not going to cry. It's not happening.

There's a slightly muffled voice that suddenly fills Louis' ears, and his eyes shoot open and move to the direction it came from. Louis feels his heart break out into a sprint, and he grips the blankets on his bed as if to protect himself. What the hell are blankets going to do?

"Louis? Who are you talking to?" Harry speaks again, and Louis breathes out a sigh of relief. He's on the other side of the door. Louis closes his eyes, silently sending an array of nasty words to the man above before he speaks again.

Louis stands up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He wipes any wetness from his lashes onto the fabric on his shoulder. _I'm fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine and I'm not sitting here begging to invisible people._ One deep breath, and he hears a slight knock on the door. He exhales, suppressing a grin as he walks towards the door.

"Sorry, I'm not insane," He says, as he opens the door in a swift movement. Harry almost completely falls through the door frame but catches himself at the last second. He must have been leaning against the door listening to Louis' bullshit praying. "Don't you ever talk to yourself?" Louis raises an eyebrow.

"I heard you talking and was curious. I haven't been here the whole time," Harry mumbles to himself, looking down clearly ashamed. "I talk to myself in my head, don't know about out loud,"

"Haven't you heard of manifestations?" Louis presses. "You speak it to the universe, make it happen. It's pretty cool stuff. Anyway... the shower is free."

Louis doesn't say another word as he steps past Harry and walks down the corridor towards the bathroom. He does, however, feel the lingering gaze of Harry. He feels it bore into his soul all the way until he turns into the kitchen and out of view. Louis spends the time alone preparing dinner, he sifts through different options for a few minutes before deciding on what he wants. He barely has the ingredients ready to go when Harry appears out of the hallway, hair freshly washed and adorned in silk pyjamas. How pretentious, but Louis bites back a scoff.

"I can cook dinner, if you'd like. I had a recipe in my head," He speaks rather calmly, and Louis' brain is instantly replaying the avocado on toast scenario. He doesn't need to deal with anymore smashed plates. And almost as if Harry read his mind, he speaks again. "No broken plates this time, though,"

"So, you are a mind reader," Louis says flatly, eyes flickering between Harry and the food splayed out in front of him. "I was fine with cooking dinner,"

"You look completely exhausted, to be quite honest," Harry shrugs. "I'll happily make it, if you promise not to throw a hissy fit about it,"

Louis rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest and looking more stubborn than ever. "Well. How about rather than you doing all the work, we can try make it together. Divide up the steps. Half each,"

Harry genuinely looks surprised at this point, face completely blank as he stares at Louis with wide eyes. Louis smiles softly, still leaning against the kitchen bench. "I'm pretty useless at picking recipes though, so maybe you had something in mind,"

"I could cook an old favourite. You'll enjoy it, probably more so than me," Harry hums to himself, looking at the ingredients Louis had already set out, and then turns towards the fridge, silently opening it and eyeing the food inside too.

"Well. Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Chicken stuffed with mozzarella, wrapped in parma ham with a side of homemade mash. You ever tried it?" Harry speaks slowly but doesn't look at Louis as he pulls out some mozzarella from the fridge, juggling it between both hands absentmindedly.

Louis pouts in thought, impressed with the idea and nods his head slowly. "That does sound rather delicious. But wait," He stops for a second, which in return does get Harry's attention. "You don't eat meat. It's not your favourite. So, what's the point?"

"It's fun to make. I'll just make some extra vegetables. No skin off my back, really," Harry shrugs immediately, brushing off Louis' doubt. "I might even have a little bit. I'm not like a strict vegetarian. I just don't really enjoy meat but this one is a personal favourite,"

"Am I about to have Harry Styles break his vegetarian streak?" Louis playfully gasps but doesn't push it any further. "Sure. If that's what you feel like cooking tonight. You're going to have to teach me. I'm not really a chef. My abilities go as far as boiled eggs and maybe buttering toast,"

Harry raises an eyebrow, looking back at the kitchen bench covered in different items and points towards it. "So, what's all this then?"

"To be honest, I was just picking things and hoping for the best," Louis is completely ashamed, but he tries his best to hold his pride. It doesn't get far though. "I'll put the stuff back and help you out,"

⸸⸸⸸

The whole ordeal of cooking together was nothing like Louis was expecting. Surprisingly, it went smoothly, and there was not a single argument in sight. Both Louis and Harry worked together with complete ease, and not to mention, the actual finished meal was one of the best dishes he'd ever eaten in his whole life. Louis had managed to go the entire time without a single smart-ass response, and Harry despite giving orders, had managed to remain relatively quiet.

"Do you cook a lot at home?" Louis decides to ask as he starts to wash the dishes. He had silently assigned himself that job, and Harry didn't protest as he sauntered over. Louis does notice the immediate hesitation that flashes over Harry's face next to him. It leaves a pang of slight discomfort in his stomach but before he can think of something to say Harry answers.

"I do sometimes, my parents have pretty old school views though. They believe the woman does the cooking and cleaning. It's not something that I agree with, and I do try and cook as much as I can without being scolded,"

Louis desperately wants to prod further and bites his cheeks so hard he swears he's drawing blood. He can taste that familiar metallic taste, but Harry speaks again. "I can tell you want to know more about me, and I can sense your hesitation. You act like I'm some type of atomic bomb, and you're not sure what's my trigger,"

Harry's voice is low, quiet, and filled with a type of sincerity that makes Louis completely freeze momentarily while washing the dishes. He doesn't know what to say at this point, because his brain isn't quite connecting with his voice box. How many times is he rendered speechless? He blinks a few times, staring at the ceramic plate in his hand as he desperately tries to find the right words.

"I don't want you to feel like all I care about is knowing your life story. It's not my job to sit here and pry, you'll talk about things when and if you're comfortable enough,"

He can _feel_ Harry's presence next to him, heat radiating and scorching through the layers of his pyjamas and soaking into his skin. In the very corner of his peripheral vision, he notices Harry silently reaching for a tea towel to dry whatever Louis has washed. It stays silent for what feels like several minutes. Louis scrubs the plates clean, rinses them and hands them to Harry. And Louis can't think coherently because Harry's warmth keeps brushing closer, and each time their shoulders touch it makes Louis feel claustrophobic. At one-point Louis swears Harry playfully bumps his hip, but it's so slight that he doesn't make a comment, in case he was just imagining. The silence is eventually broken when Harry speaks again, and it immediately breaks Louis out of the awkward trance he'd put himself in. It's almost as if he's snapped back inside his body.

"When I first met Liv, 2 years ago, things were really tough. My relationship with my parents was in shambles, and I was the black sheep of the family," His voice sounds hesitant and Louis isn't sure whether to turn towards him or focus on the last bit of the washing. "My parents held some grand banquet, in celebration of Gemma's achievements. They invited a few family friends, mostly Gemma's close friends. They set up some sort of blind date without my knowledge. So, naturally, that is when I met Liv,"

All the moisture inside Louis' mouth instantly dries up, and he finds himself gripping the plate for dear life as he let's Harry continue. He's not going to cut him off because Harry's actually speaking about himself and Louis didn't even have to ask. The silence that follows Harry's initial statement starts to get unsettling and Louis attempts to subtly turn his body towards him. The first thing that he notices is that Harry is hunched forward, hands widely spread apart and gripping the countertop. His hair serves as a curtain, ringlets draped over his face and blocking it from Louis' view. Louis silently observes the way Harry's breathing is slow and deep, as if he's trying to stave off a panic attack. Louis' mouth opens before he can even think to stop it.

"So, you met her through family?" Louis wants to rip his own hair out, but he has to try and play this off coolly. He speaks with the utmost nonchalance and he notices the visibly rigid Harry slightly soften.

"It was like an arrangement. My parents thought I was some sort of lost cause and it was like a last-ditch attempt to make me be the son they always wanted. I was sitting at the table, drinking whiskey and she sat next to me. I didn't think anything of it at first, I didn't even properly acknowledge her," Harry lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "I think I nodded at her, or even just a quick smile before I tried to look anywhere else but her. She leaned into my ear and said the most ridiculous thing. I remember dropping my drink all over myself. It was actually embarrassing,"

"You don't have to tell me about it you know? I'm not going to force you to tell me about the whole situation," Louis speaks quickly, setting down the plate and leaning against the cool countertop. He notices that Harry looks slightly less tense, but when he tilts his face in his direction, he immediately notices the rigidness of his jawline and the piercing jaded eyes that lock onto Louis' soul.

"I know, but maybe you can help me make sense of it all. I still don't know what I'm doing," Harry says softly. "I know I've given some elaborate spiel about not wanting a psychologist, or you to be picking at my brain. But maybe actually telling someone about our relationship might help. I don't know. Is that dumb?" He locks eyes with Louis again. Louis physically can't avert his gaze because all he finds himself stuck in a sea of green, stomach churning and the physical haze of Harry's eyes makes him crumble.

"No, it's not dumb. At all. Talking about things is healthy. I'll try my best to keep my mouth shut but if you want to talk please do," The swirling colours of moss, jade and emerald takes over the entirety of Louis' brain, and he swears whenever he closes his eyes he'll see it. That exact shade, might very well be his new favourite colour. "What did she say that made you spill the drink?"

Harry straightens up for this, the blank face now replaced with him attempting to suppress a smirk and failing miserably. Louis can't help but observe as Harry run's his decorated fingers through the mass of curls and he chuckles. "Honestly, you don't even want to know. No one needs to repeat it,"

"Humour me,"

And yeah. Maybe Louis was getting a little too ballsy and he is completely aware at the utter repulsion he's going to feel in a few seconds, but it's as if he's in a total trance and can't control his mouth.

"She had a dirty mouth," Harry presses his lips together, his porcelain skin threatening to turn a light shade of pink right in front of Louis. But when he realises Louis isn't going to interject, he speaks again. "Said we should just cut to the chase and take it to the bedroom. Or the supply closet. Whatever was closest,"

Louis thanks his past self for putting down the plate just before, because the way his body jolts he knows he would have dropped the damn thing. "So, no wonder you dropped the drink then,"

Harry does laugh this time, and it makes Louis' heart swell. He doesn't laugh enough, and he should because it might be the 8th wonder of the world. "Yeah, I wasn't expecting it at all. And before you think I had the audacity to leave the table with her, I didn't. I kindly rejected her actually. I left the table to change clothes and considered staying in my room. I didn't want to have to sit around and pretend I'm something I'm not,"

Louis sighs. "And you should never have to. You should always be true to yourself and be exactly who you are. If people can't accept that then they're not worth a second of your time,"

"Wise words but why don't you follow your own advice? You put on this front of how you want others to see you but you're not being truthful. To others or even yourself," Harry asks, blinking once and raising an eyebrow.

Harry's response completely takes Louis off guard, in fact, the impact feels deep in his chest. He can feel automatic heat spreading to every inch of his body and he isn't sure if he can get a grip this time. Louis immediately turns when all else fails, focusing back on the last dish or two while he tries to come back with something. Once his brain is focused on anything but Harry, he can speak. "It's not so much I'm not truthful, I just know there's parts of me that don't need to exist,"

"Every part of you should exist. Cause every part makes you who you are,"

"Are you the psychologist or am I?" Louis says flatly, turning his head back in Harry's direction. The playful nature that had fallen across every feature of Harry's instantly fades, eyes slightly widening, and a glint of sadness replaces them. The entire energy of the room shifts, no more comfortable banter or laughter, but instead Louis' own panic and sudden anger radiates thick in the air.

"What's wrong?" Harry's own voice matches his sullen features, but Louis needs to just take a breather. He doesn't even know what's wrong, but he is uncomfortable.

"You can't say that stuff about me when you don't know anything. You don't know every part of me to say they should exist. Cause I know full well they shouldn't and I hate it," Louis steps away from the bench at this point, and starts towards the bedroom. He'll come out later when he's sorted his own brain out but right now, he's shaking. He feels like he's slipping.

"You don't think I hate myself too? I mean look at me, all I've got is the pretentious clothes that you always seem to mock and maybe a nice face. I don't have much of a family, my relationship is a façade, and I'm a fucking joke. So, tell me what you could possibly hate about yourself Louis Tomlinson? Cause I'd do anything be you, and not have to live my life,"

Louis clenches his jaw so tightly that his own teeth ache and his shoulders tense up as he tries to bring himself back to reality. But Harry's own voice is raised now, and this just makes Louis want to bite back just as hard.

"I barely see my family. All I have is my best friend Niall, he's the only person that couldn't give a shit about my life story. He just cares about the company. My relationship...is barely a relationship at all. That's why he put me here. I don't know how the hell I ended up in here, with you of all people. It makes no sense,"

Harry bursts into laughter, which completely takes Louis off guard. He frowns and feels the flames of rage ignite deep in his veins. If steam could visibly escape out his nostrils right now, he'd be the actual depiction of a raging cartoon.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" The volume of Louis' voice rises again but Harry doesn't even react at this point. He just shakes his head and keeps chuckling.

"You don't get it, do you? Niall can see it, and I'm sure Eleanor can too. How did you end up on this island with another man if you are in-fact straight? You don't think Niall set this up? Didn't write on that application that you're curious or struggling to come to terms with your own sexuality?" Harry presses. And Louis stays dead silent, and it's the type of silence that is quite terrifying. But Harry is unbothered. "I wrote on my application that I like both, in fact, was questioning about if I just liked the one. So maybe, just maybe, Niall's doing you a favour!"

Louis' whole vision blacks out, the rage bursting and taking over every single function. It's practically a blur as he shoves Harry against the counter and grips his collar furiously. "You shut your fucking mouth. That isn't me. Niall wouldn't put me through that. You don't know me, so how dare you?!"

Louis isn't even able to process the sheer impact of his actions, and he doesn't notice the way Harry instantly is rigid. However, he does instantly notice his pupils dilating immensely at the eye contact, but Harry stays silent, and better yet, refuses to break eye contact as Louis seethes in front of him. The level of arrogance and confidence keeps Louis' rage intact, hands tightly gripping the silken material and heart thudding heavily against his ribs. "You wouldn't even begin to understand anything about me. So, watch it,"

In the very next second, just as quick as Louis exploded, Louis' hands are ripped off the collar of the pyjamas and Harry is pushing back. More so than ever, Harry's height is towering over him. Harry's rigid body takes a hesitant step forward, and Louis instantly takes a step back but all while holding Harry's smouldering gaze. The swirling of jaded green and moss burns through his system like fire and his anger is fizzling out. However, even with Harry standing a whole head and a half taller than him, and a look of animalistic rage setting in all his features, Louis doesn't back down.

"Stop lying to yourself," Harry's voice is low, gravelly and filled to the brim with hatred. Louis has two options here and neither are going to look good on his half. He could either storm to his room, escape this argument and look like a total jerk-off, or he can give a good fight. His hand furls into a tight fist immediately as he weighs up the options in a split second. He barely even gets to register Harry's eyes flickering to the fist at his side. "Violence isn't going to solve anything."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Louis voice is deflated, any sense of humour completely depleted.

Harry takes another step forward, but Louis doesn't step back this time, because he isn't going to bow down to Harry Styles. Not ever in this lifetime. He's unbearably close, the heat radiating from his skin soaks through Louis' own clothing, soaking up through his pores. Harry's own cologne is invading his sense of smell, clouding his mind, and completely ravishing his thought processes. So, naturally, Louis holds his breath. "I think you really need to reconsider what Niall was intending for you,"

As the words fall out of Harry's mouth, Louis see's his cherry-coloured lips instantly upturn into a know-it-all smile. So naturally, Louis decides to wipe it off his face. It happens quickly, but Louis feels the bone of Harry's nose against his knuckles and it's an immediate shooting pain that causes him to exhale quickly. Unexpectedly though, Harry does not drop to the floor. Louis stammers immediately, rage completely disintegrating as his mind catches up with his own physical actions. He watches in horrifically slow detail as crimson drips; it's blinding in comparison to the porcelain canvas below it. It leaves a trail from Harry's nostrils, over his mouth and down his jawline.

"Fuck," Louis mutters. "Fucking christ. Jesus fucking christ," He blinks, eyes widening as Harry lifts his hand slowly, wiping his face with the back of his hand. It's a scene out of a movie; the way Harry instinctively turns his hand around and assesses the level of blood that is now smeared. The silence is the most terrifying thing Louis has ever experienced, and he's now reconsidering every action he's made in the last couple hours.

"Sorry." He spills out next, rambling but doing nothing to improve the situation at hand. "I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry. Harry."

Harry's voice is wrecked, completely and destroyed to the point it's like that atomic bomb that he was describing, was dropped directly into Louis' chest cavity, and detonated. The corner of Louis' vision darkens, head swirling and chest winded.

"I felt like that once. Until I realised that it was just people trying to help. Sometimes I still feel like that because I wish this wasn't me. But violence isn't going to heal your heart, until you accept it for what it is. I can take this on the chin, because trust me, I've endured a lot worse. But before you start throwing fists around like you're Floyd Mayweather... think about whether someone is trying to help you or not,"

Louis' shoulders slump as the words unravel the shock, hurt and remnants of anger in his system. Harry wipes his nose again, smearing it further on his face and arm. He doesn't flinch though, and it's as if this was a common occurrence. Just another "blood nose".

_I've endured worse._

_I felt like that once._

**_Sometimes I still feel like that because I wish this wasn't me._ **

"Harry-," Louis starts, but he doesn't know what to say.

"Just fuck off, yeah? Fuck off back to your bedroom for a while," Harry says blankly, turning his back to Louis and walking off in the direction of the lounge room. There's a deep puncture in Louis' chest, as guilt and desperation claws at his insides. The thoughts are swarming in his head like a thousand hornets and he feels like he's back in the ocean, and not sure which way is up or down. But he's sure he's swimming down. Straight to the bottom.

But the only thought Louis can hear clear, over anything... makes him feel nauseated.

**_What did Niall do?_ **


End file.
